


Slapped With the Truth

by somanyofthekids



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Fiki, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Sibling Incest, Smut, bagginshield, but not sorry enough to not write it, cheap jokes as far as the eye can see, darlin, nwalin - Freeform, sorry i'm gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 57,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/somanyofthekids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a (mostly) reformed burglar and a guide with peculiar gifts. When Gandalf arrives with a proposition involving 13 dwarves, a dragon, and a resurrection of those burglary skills, of course he's going to say no. </p><p>Well, maybe not, but he's definitely not going to get involved with any of this sentinel/guide bonding business. </p><p>Okay, at least for sure he'll keep a lid on his own emotions, he has every kind of practice with that. </p><p>Dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slapped With the Truth is a pretty straightforward Sentinel/Guide AU of The Hobbit. I never watched the show The Sentinel, but I love reading it borrowed for fics. This is me testing the waters of creative writing, I just thought it would be fun to take these assholes out to my sandbox for a while.
> 
> All my love to @beautyagegoodnesssize because she's a babe and read this first!

In a hole in the ground there lived a guide. Not a limp waif of a guide, but a guide of the Took family, and that means empathy with strength and subtlety. Bilbo Baggins was the name of this guide, and he was currently having his morning pipe on the bench in his front garden. Bilbo exuded small waves of contentment as was common for guides of the Shire, if guides of the Shire could be called common at all, and watched a tall grey man walk up the lane.

“Good morning!” He called to the man.

“What do you mean?” the man replied. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“If you are Gandalf the Grey I should think it would be none of those, but something far more complicated and far less sensible.”

Gandalf chuckled and leaned on his staff. “How are you, my dear Bilbo? Keeping out of trouble I hope?”

“Oh, as if you ever cared to keep me or anyone else out of trouble!” Bilbo smiled, “But as a matter of fact, I am indeed keeping out of trouble. I'm perfectly respectable these days! And a perfectly respectable hobbit always invites his guests in for tea. Would you join me?”

“I'd be delighted.”

 

As tea was laid out and biscuits presented, Gandalf bluntly came out with the reason for his visit. “There is a company of dwarves seeking a burglar for an adventure.”

“Oh no. No no. I've just told you that I'm keeping out of trouble and I'm perfectly respectable now. I haven't done any burglaring in years!”

“No?” Gandalf raised one bushy eyebrow.

Bilbo determinedly did not blush, and rushed to say “I've not done any  _real_  burglaring in years. Skimming a mushroom or two from the Maggot's farm hardly counts. And you know, I never really liked that term anyway. Burglar,” he scoffed “I just... rearranged things now and then. And made people feel comfortable while I was at it.”

“Hm,” Gandalf's mustache twitched “Yes, well then there is a company of dwarves looking for a Persuasive Rearranger of Things, definitely not a burglar, and I think you would fit the ticket quite admirably.”

“As a _former_ persuasive rearranger of things, my answer is still no. What is a company of dwarves doing that needs that kind of service anyway?”

“They are looking to reclaim their homeland. Have you heard of Thorin Oakenshield?”

 _Who hasn't heard of Thorin Oakenshield_ , Bilbo thought as he sipped his tea.The wandering prince sentinel who had saved his people at Azanulbizar had many stories of his great deeds floating around, even as far as the Shire. The tragic figure of the stories had lost his grandfather, father, and brother in the battle that he had then won by killing the evil orc leader. It was whispered that his mother had died soon after too, unable to weather the broken bond her husband’s death had created.

“What's he got to do with it? Wait... _Erebor?_ You mean to tell me he is looking for a burglar to help reclaim his mountain from a _dragon?”_

“Not a burglar, a persuasive rearranger of things.”

Bilbo expansively waved his hand through the air. “What does he expect?! Does he think he can burgle the mountain out from under the beast one rock at a time?? This is madness!”

Gandalf sat back and sighed. “I believe he can do it. With the right people, of course.” He lifted a pointed eyebrow. “There are many obstacles in the way, not just the dragon, although I will admit that is the biggest. He wishes to reclaim the Lonely Mountain for his people, not out of pure greed,” Gandalf spoke in earnest. “He wishes to return home. You should at least speak to him. To all of them, in fact. Please, feel out the company with your gifts before you make a final decision. Hear what their mouths and their hearts say.”

Bilbo pursed his lips. He could feel the sincerity in the wizard's words, but there was something else...“You've already invited them here, haven't you.” It wasn't a question.

The corner of Gandalf's mouth ticked up. “A respectable hobbit always invites his guests in for tea.”

Bilbo frowned. “I'll not turn them away, but only because I wouldn't wish to make their already unfortunate journey any harder than it already is.”

“There's a good man.”

“You'll be staying to help of course.”

“Alas, I have other business to attend to before tonight.”

“Of course,” Bilbo sighed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

That evening, just as Bilbo set a ham on the counter to rest, the first knock came at the door. He brushed off his hands, checked the hair on his feet, and pulled his empathy back to the lowest register possible. It wouldn't do to unsettle his guests, either with matted feet or a blast of unwanted feelings. As he neared the door, he stealthily reached out the fingers of his gifts to the person on the other side. It was a sentinel, with gifts quite strong too. Could this perhaps be the Great Thorin Oakenshield? He opened the door to find...

A giant. A bald, tattooed, giant.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Won't you come in?” Dwalin was already shouldering past him into the hallway. Bilbo discreetly rolled his eyes at the dwarf's manners, but politely said “The kitchen and dining room are at the end of this hall. Dinner should be ready soon; I just pulled the ham out of the oven.”

“Aye, I'll grab it and put it out. Yeh'll be wanting to stay near the door, I saw the knucklehead twins coming up the road behind me.”

“Knucklehead twins?” Bilbo mouthed, truly perplexed before two more quick raps came on his door. He opened it this time to find one fair haired and one dark haired dwarf standing there.

“Fíli," said the lighter one “-and Kíli!” cut in the darker before they bowed and spoke in unison “At your service!”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's.” Bilbo didn't even have to reach out to tell that these two were also gifted and, although Bilbo usually couldn’t sense this sort of thing, that they shared a rare true bond. The bond was loud; the very air around them rejoiced with it. The dark haired one, Kíli, had that crisp feeling of one newly into their gifts, but the bond between the two was so absolute that it was hard to tell where one's talents began and the other's ended. The emotional manifestation of Kíli's exaggerated senses and physical strength twined and coiled with Fíli's empathetic guide gifts. The talents seemed to caress and support each other, though the two stood shoulder width apart.

“Dwalin is already here in the dining room, won't you join him?” Bilbo motioned down the hall and the pair set off. Bilbo itched to follow to learn more about them. It was incredibly rare to find a true match between those with gifts, and this was between brothers unless Bilbo was much mistaken. It was remarkable! However, he needed to return to the kitchen if he was going to be feeding 13 dwarves. If there were more the size of Dwalin, there could be trouble indeed.

 

The next arrive was Balin, Dwalin's brother and a guide of no small talent. After him, a group of five arrived. Bilbo was able to catch the names Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, and Glóin and just managed to detect another two guides and a sentinel among them before a few yells went up from the kitchen and they all rushed to join in the meal. Bilbo continued to keep his gifts to himself, except for only the most subtle of tasting to give him an idea of whether everyone was enjoying themselves. He also might have been ensuring that the star haired dwarf (Nori, Bilbo thought he was called) wasn't up to any shenanigans. Bilbo didn't need to reach into his mind to recognize a fellow _persuasive rearranger of things._ He did not mind giving these dwarves a good meal and a warm bed for the night, but he'd be damned before losing his mother's teaspoons to any of them.

As the last of the salmon fillets disappeared, there came a fifth knock at the door, and this time Bilbo's other senses recognized at least one of the newcomers before he opened it. Gandalf was stooped over behind three more dwarves, whom he introduced as Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. Bilbo stared for a moment at the axe protruding from Bifur's head before Gandalf cleared his throat. “Oh! Bilbo Baggins at your service, won't you please share our dinner?” he said, stepping back to allow them all in.

After the entryway had cleared out a bit, Gandalf took a peek down the hall and into the dining room, which was reaching an unsafe level of decibels. “1,2,3... 7,8,... 12. It would seem we're still missing our esteemed leader. He does have a tendency to get lost; perhaps you should send a welcome out to the road.”

“If you want to wait out there to welcome him, be my guest.”

Gandalf gave him a disapproving frown. “That's not what I meant, Bilbo.”

Bilbo sighed. “You know how the residents of Hobbiton feel about sentinels and guides, Gandalf. You know how they feel about me in particular using my gifts,” he lowered his voice “and not without reason considering my past choices. If someone else walks on the road by my house, they'll know exactly who is responsible for that feeling and by tomorrow all the shops will be indefinitely 'fresh out' of anything I'm looking for. Again. Besides, Oakenshield is supposed to be a sentinel of the highest caliber, isn't he? I have a great big bright green front door with a sign on. He's not going to miss it.”

 

Thorin missed it.

 

He must have done, because they had reached the bottom of the first wine cask and he still wasn't there. Bilbo was enjoying his evening with the dwarves, and found he quite liked the lot of them. Well, as much as you can like people you've met only a couple of hours earlier. Which it turns out is quite a bit more than one might think when there are five happy guides in the same room. Bilbo had never been around so many gifted at once! A part of him wanted to talk to them about it and compare notes on what it's like to experience life through the feelings of others; or ask what it's like for a sentinel to open up their senses. During the soup course he had pegged the other guides as Balin, Nori, Óin and Fíli while the sentinels were Dwalin, Kíli, Dori, and Bifur (and the yet invisible Thorin). However, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to talk about it or even let his gifts rise to a detectable level for the others to notice. The decades of pretending to be unremarkable in every way were not so easy to shrug off. After all, even when his mother was still alive he mostly kept his gifts to himself. It was much easier to go unnoticed that way, which was key to the sleight of hand he often practiced for his mother's amusement. In fact, the only time he hadn't restrained himself was... Well. He had a house full of raucous, delightful dwarves. This was not the time to dwell on that.

Eventually the last knock on the door came. “That must be the leader of the company!” Gandalf proclaimed, and got up to follow Bilbo to the front door. As Bilbo walked down the hall, his other senses first told him just that there was someone else at the end of it. Unbearably curious, he reached out his talents as he got closer, and his low frequency of empathy told him this person was gifted. Even closer, he learned that this person was a sentinel. Then two steps in front of his door, the strength hit him. Bilbo felt almost as if he had walked into a wall that was now trying to suck him in. His newest guest was a sentinel of truly _aggressive_ talents. Bilbo reflexively pulled back everything of his gifts that may have remained outside of himself and _hid them_. As he paused, the wizard opened the door.

“Gandalf! I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.”

Gandalf huffed and turned to Bilbo. “Allow me to introduce Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain. Thorin, this is Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.”

“So,” said Thorin. “This is the Hobbit.”

Bilbo could not stop looking up at the man. He was amazed at the magnetic power emanating from him, and the sharpness of his gaze. Those powerfully built shoulders weren't painful to see either. But the thing that kept Bilbo's attention was the... flavor? The texture, perhaps, of the gifts he could feel coming from Thorin. He was somehow comfortable and exciting and wonderful, and-

“He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

And apparently an asshole.

“I thought you said this burglar was a guide, Gandalf.”

“So he is.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow before looking more closely at Bilbo, and then shook his head.

“I'll have to take your word for it, then. Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting? Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?”

If the sentinel was going to be an asshole, then he could deal with a little shit, Bilbo thought.

“Well, I have some skill at conkers if you must know.”

“I thought as much,” Thorin scoffed as he turned towards the dining room.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the royal backside and went to fetch a second wine cask. He was going to need it.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?” Bilbo heard Balin ask upon reseating himself at the table. “Did they all come?”

“Aye,” Thorin answered. “Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Dwalin interrupted the ensuing satisfied cheer. “What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?”

Even before Thorin answered, Bilbo could feel the mood of the room enter a freefall.

“They will not come.”

The falling mood met it's abrupt landing, and splattered like a face down pie.

Silence sat over the table, until someone whispered “Fuck.” It was followed by the sound of a smack and then more silence.

Bilbo was nearly choking on the bleak mood of the room before Thorin stood up.

“Our cousins do not understand as we do," he spoke passionately. “They do not see the value of the mountain beyond what metals and precious stones it might yield, but we do. We know it to be a home; a mine of not just the shining gems Erebor was known for, but also of the bravest and fiercest dwarves to ever live! Our people prospered when we were there! No child went hungry in the kingdom of Erebor, no babe was swaddled in rags. We can have that for our people again.”

“Our children, our histories, our memories; these are reasons to see the mountain reclaimed. We knew it would be the most difficult undertaking, but it will be _worth it_ to see those families settled and taking up crafts again. We do this for future generations,” he glanced at Fíli and Kíli. “We can not give up hope before our journey has even begun. We will see the dragon destroyed and our people home, or we will die in the attempt.”

If Bilbo hadn't felt with his own gifts that Thorin was a sentinel, he might have thought he was a guide. The emotions of the dwarves around the table rose with his words until Bilbo could feel a burning passion from each of them; some tinged with sorrow for things past, others vibrating with hope for great deeds in the future. Bilbo himself didn’t know about this “die in the attempt” business, but he could appreciate the fervor to which the company had responded.

Gandalf clapped his hands once.

“Well spoken, future King Under the Mountain! Now, let us have more light to see the map.” He pulled out a map and key that looked like they might be older than Bag End and lay it on the table while Bilbo fetched more candles. Gandalf pointed to a spot on the west side of the mountain. “Do you recall the secret entrance here? Five feet high and three abreast, says the map. This,” he pointed to the key, “is the key to that door.”

“It _was_ secret, but Smaug has been there long enough to know about any holes in the mountain, Gandalf. How can we know he hasn't blocked it up somehow?”

“You can't! But how many things do you actually know for certain about this quest? Not a one, I daresay. Besides, even if Smaug has done something, he is too large and his claws too clumsy to have sealed all the cracks. Which is why I have found you a burglar! And a most particular burglar too, although he prefers to be called a Persuasive Rearranger of Things. Hobbits are most nimble and stealthy when they need to be-”

“Now, Gandalf-” Bilbo interrupted.

Thorin cut across whatever he was going to say with a gesture to Balin. “Show him the contract.”

Bilbo shot a nasty look at Thorin for interrupting him despite Bilbo being the one who had interrupted Gandalf in the first place, but he took the contract anyway.

“It's a standard contract for this sort of thing, lad,” said Balin. “Your services as burglar once we reach the mountain are given, and one fourteenth share of the treasure once Erebor has been reclaimed is your reward. Due to the nature of the quest there are clauses for incineration and funeral arrangements. Who is your bond partner? We'll add their name to contact in case of mortal termination.”

Bilbo was frowning as he looked over the contract. Distractedly, he answered “I don't have one.”

Balin furrowed his brow, second guessing his own evaluation of Mr. Baggins. “I thought Gandalf said you were a guide?”

“Yes yes, but I don't have any kind of bond.”

“Not even a bond of convenience, with a neighbor or such?”

“No. There are very few gifted in the Shire and even fewer who would be willing to tie themselves to me in any fashion, even tenuously.”

At this, everyone in hearing distance raised their eyebrows. Bilbo kept his eyes firmly on the contract.

Dwalin incredulously asked “What do you do in a swoon? Who brings you back?”

“Luckily that hasn't been a problem for me since I was very young. I've always been unusually stable in my talents, and had an easier time growing into them than most.”

Dwalin looked doubtful, but Kíli spoke up before he could respond.

“Is it because they're so weak?” He wondered aloud before Fíli elbowed him in the side.

Bilbo made a noncommittal noise as he went back to reading the contract.

Balin shrewdly gazed at the top of the Hobbit's head and answered Kíli. “I don't think that's it, lad.”

Thorin, who had left the table to pace as soon as the contract was produced, returned to lean both hands on the table next to Gandalf. “If we enter the mountain through the back door, the burglar will locate the arkenstone. With that in hand, Dain's people would surely respond to our call to help us slay the dragon.”

“Now, just a minute Mister Oakenshield-” sputtered Bilbo

“Excuse me, the _‘persuasive rearranger of things’_ will locate the arkenstone,” corrected Thorin, tone mocking.

Bilbo straightened his spine and lifted his chin. “Perhaps eyesight is not a specialty among your sentinel gifts, but even so you may have noticed that I have not yet signed the contract. One might want to hold back from making plans dependent upon my involvement.”

Thorin put on a stone face that would have impressed Durin. “There is hardly any point in bringing along another mouth to feed without plans as to how you might be useful. We certainly don't need you for your guide talents.”

Bilbo was so angry he could feel the control on his gifts slipping.

He opened his mouth to bite back at Oakenshield anyway.

Before he could however, Gandalf intervened.

“I believe it is high time we helped Master Baggins with clearing up!”

At this, twelve of the dwarves- not Thorin, who was too busy staring daggers at the wizard- jumped up and began building towers of dirty dishes while singing a truly ridiculous song about chipping plates and blunting knives. Bilbo didn't worry, he knew enough about the cleverness of dwarves to think they would do any of those terrible things, but he did go into the kitchen to ensure his dinner plates and teacups got returned to the right shelves.

The kitchen emptied as the washing was finished, and Bilbo himself was ready to exit after straightening the tea towels when he heard the music begin. Silently he crept into the living room where everyone was now seated. There were fiddles, flutes and clarinets wielded by the company, and to Bilbo's surprise Thorin sat with a harp in his lap. A song began in earnest, and immediately Bilbo's gifts were swept up in feelings of a fierce and jealous, yet morose love. Jewels like stars seemed to shine through the music's intent, and Bilbo saw great waterfalls and smelled pine trees. Then Thorin began to sing.

 

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away were break of day_

_To see the pale enchanted gold_

_The dwarves of yore made mighty spells_

_While hammers fell like ringing bells_

_In places deep, where dark things sleep,_

_In hollow halls beneath the fells_

 

Looking back, Bilbo would recognize this as the moment of no return. He wouldn't actually put his foot into it until he signed the contract and started packing later that night, but there was no way he could have stayed alone in his smial after experiencing the feelings coming from the wandering prince. He had to follow the voice of those dark and incredibly lonely emotions that somehow also burned with a fervent hope. Before he could think better of it, he reached out waves of his empathy to lap at the air around Thorin, not daring to actually touch the man but needing badly to know more. So intent was he on examining these deep emotions, and so absorbed was Thorin on his song, that neither of them noticed Balin sharply look up at Bilbo before glancing to Thorin and then back to Bilbo. But he said nothing, and the song continued.

When the song was over, the secretive guide returned to the kitchen table with a pen and signed the contract. He silently handed it over to Balin, who didn't question him. Then Bilbo turned and began settling all of the others into guest rooms, worried about having a bed big enough for Dwalin and reminding himself to slip his mother’s teaspoons back out of Nori’s pockets when he wasn't looking.

As Bilbo fussed about his home, Thorin quietly cornered Gandalf, who was sitting with his pipe. “Are you sure about the halfling, wizard?”

Gandalf huffed. “You asked me to find the fourteenth person for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. He is a burglar, and a burglar you need. If you had arrived on time, you might have had time to question the residents of the Shire on exactly how good a burglar he is.”

Considering the things Bilbo had said at dinner, Thorin actually did not doubt his burlaring ability. However...“You also promised me a guide to help in the wilderness. He has barely a whisper of talent, Gandalf! I doubt he could properly support a bond of convenience with either me or Bifur. We’ll both have to rely on Óin now.” Thorin shook his head. “I'll not be responsible for his fate.”

Gandalf very seriously looked over the bowl of his pipe at Thorin. “Do not mistake subtlety for weakness, Thorin Oakenshield. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. His gifts are enough to face down a dragon if need be. Bilbo has his reasons for tying down his talents tightly, and you should hope you never truly find out why.”

The wizard tapped out his bowl and went to find his own sleeping quarters, leaving Thorin feeling unsettled and doubtful.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The chaotic mess of the next morning left Bilbo with only a few minutes to run over to his gardener and his mother's old bond of convenience, Hamfast Gamgee. Seeing no way around it, Bilbo abruptly stated “I'm going on an adventure. Will you look after Bag End? I've brought a letter for you to give to the exchange that they should double your monthly payment if you agree.”

Hamfast stood gobsmacked for a moment before gathering himself. “Of course, Mister Baggins. You off with all those dwarves?”

“Yes- if they wait for me anyway.”

“I felt one of them arrive last night, when I was out for my dinnertime smoke. He was a right strong sentinel, that one. Talented enough to match you even, I think. It would have done your mother proud to see you off adventuring again, and comforted to know you've got someone around to lift you out if you need it.”

“Hamfast, if you're thinking of the dwarf I think you're thinking of, then trust me: I'm not going to break my decades long streak of solitude with him. I haven't needed a bond before; I'm not going to start now.”

“Just because you don't need it doesn't mean it wouldn't do you good. 'Sides, it's been far too long since I've seen you with some affectionate companionship, if you know what I'm drivin' at, and that one looked-”

Before the old gardener could make any steps down that road, Bilbo cut him off with a hasty “Thank you!” and “Please eat anything left in the pantry!” and “Goodbye!”

 

So the journey began. They took advantage of the few inns while they could before they would only have the hard ground to rest on. It was in the last of these inns that Bilbo could no longer hold in his curiosity. He sat next to Ori, who he had noticed looked at him with fascination occasionally. He recognized a bright mind, and thought maybe an exchange of information could be had.

Bilbo brought his half pint over and asked, “Mind if I sit here?”

Ori shook his head, and watched as Bilbo sat and took a sip of his drink.

“There’s not many gifted in the Shire, you know, not many at all. I don’t know much about it, despite being one myself.” This was Yavanna’s honest truth; the only knowledge to be had about sentinels and guides in the Shire came from the mouths of sentinels and guides. “Most of my information came from my mother. She said Hobbit sentinels, while gifted with exaggerated senses across the board, usually possessed one or two that were better than the rest. Hers were her speed and eyesight. Faster than a jackrabbit and clearer than a hawk is what she claimed, although I rarely saw it in action. Is that true of dwarves too?”

Another reason Bilbo had picked Ori specifically was because he was not gifted, and hopefully would not view the information as personal but rather academic. He rose to the occasion beautifully.

“Oh yes! While dwarrow sentinels have magnificent talents in every sense, the most common specialty is strength. There are plenty of others, though. I think Kíli, for example, has magnified sight and speed, and I know Bifur’s specialty is hearing.” A proud look sat on his face, “Dori is the third strongest dwarf in Ered Luin, only behind Dwalin and Thorin.”

“Oh, so their specialties are strength as well?” inquired Bilbo.

“Well, I know Dwalin’s is, or at least one of them. Thorin… is the exception to the rule.” Ori’s voice took on a reverential tone. “They say the line of Durin is occasionally blessed by Mahal with gifts exceptional even to the gifted. He’s never said, and obviously I can’t sense things the way you folk can, but they say that Thorin is equally magnified in all his gifts- EEP!” Ori startled and sloshed ale all over the table as Dori’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“S’ no secret, little brother, don’t speak as though you’re trading information. Our future king is the most talented of the gifted to exist! Strength, speed, hearing, sight, touch; he has it all.”

“An’ yet he still can’t beat me in a hand to hand match!” called over Dwalin.

Thorin actually may have _smiled_ at that, but it was hard for Bilbo to tell because his face was hidden behind his mug.

“Unfortunately I can’t sense a cheat until after it’s happened.”

“AY!” came the indignant reply, and the two devolved into what sounded like the hundredth round of the same argument. Bilbo turned back to Ori to see him looking down at him with a look of nervous curiosity.

“You say the gifted are uncommon in the Shire… Exactly how many of your people are undistinguished?”

“Oh. Most of them, I should say. It runs in the Took, Brandybuck and Goldworthy families to be sure...” He took a minute to extrapolate based on the number of gifted around Hobbiton. “Perhaps three percent of the population are gifted? Maybe less.”

Ori fairly gaped at him. “ _Three percent?_ Truly?”

Bilbo tilted his head. “I assumed it must be more common in dwarves, but is the difference so dramatic?”

Ori shook his head, as if to dislodge his shock, and said “A full third of our population is blessed by Mahal with gifts of the distinguished.”

Now it was Bilbo's turn to gape. “A third?? I thought the number to be higher than the Shire, of course, but that is extraordinary.”

Bofur popped up from a seat behind Ori and dropped himself into the conversation. “If ye don't mind me askin', how do yer people protect themselves? Not that I think the undistinguished are useless or nothin'; I'm one of them myself like young Ori here; but I know that without our sentinel warriors I'd've likely been feasted upon by an orc or somewhat by now. Not to mention a trip to the healer after a broken finger or three is made much more tolerable with a guide to soften the edges.”

Once Bilbo was over the culture shock, he answered what he thought to be an obvious question. “Not many are even aware of the Shire outside of our immediate neighbors. The Rangers do us a great service and patrol our borders against chance encounters, and most Hobbits believe we are afforded a certain amount of protection from Yavanna herself. There’s hardly any need for the sharp senses of a sentinel or the empathy of a guide. Except for the occasional crisis of course,” he added, thinking of the Fell Winter and the way his mother had been responsible for saving so many from the wolves that had crossed the frozen rivers. “Those who are gifted are regarded with a certain amount of suspicion, simply because we are so rare. Anything different might be considered an adventure, something Hobbits are keen to avoid,” he paused. “Most Hobbits. I am something of an oddity.”

Ori smiled and leaned forward “Have you been on many adventures then?”

The diminutive guide stilled, thinking of the adventures he had had. He thought of the thrill of his first burglaries, before they had become something forced. Before he had watched his partner’s hands be covered in blood and before he had blood on his own.

“I had a small amount of adventure in my youth. Most of it was nothing to be bragged about,” he paused again, tamping down his discomfort so none of the other guides would catch a whiff. “Mostly mischief to hone my burglaring skills and give my father headaches.”

“Not your mother?” smiled Bofur.

Bilbo gave a sad smile. “No, I'm afraid she died during my tweens.”

Bofur gave an aborted sound of regret before Bilbo shook his head and said “It was a long time ago. I learned the use of my guide talents mostly by her side in a hospital while she was ill. It made her laugh to see me ease the healers into comfort before swiping their pens or switching their gloves. She always pretended to disapprove the way a mother should, but there was no hiding the mirth that bounced from her.”

At this point Bilbo realized most of the company was listening to him. He looked around to see most of them smiling softly at the story of his mother... except for Thorin.

“So you _can_ sense the emotions of others then?” He asked as he settled back and crossed his arms.

Bilbo gave a little internal sigh at the doubt in the posture, question, and man himself.

“I realize my gifts are quieter than what you must be used to. It seems that the gifted are much more accepted among dwarves and have no need for subtlety. That is not the case among Hobbits, as I have just explained. I'm not accustomed to allowing my talents free reign. And in any case, the burglary your quest depends upon will be much easier if I don't walk into the mountain and announce to the dragon that I'm here to manipulate and steal.”

“Hardly better than if you do not have the guide capabilities to assist you in the first place.”

Bilbo sighed again, this time externally and quite loudly. Thorin paused before making a decision to plow on.

“Gifted are more common among the dwarrow, but we certainly do not think any less of those who are undistinguished, or who might have, ah... smaller... gifts.”

Bofur piped up at this. “Damn right! Frankly having gifts seems like a bit of a mess to me, much more effort than it's worth. 'Sides, there are plenty of important works they can't do that get tipped up to folk like us.”

Thorin nodded his head. “Every dwarrow is part of what holds up our communities, and without one of them, gifted or not, we are weakend the same. There are simply certain jobs that are better for certain talents. So there would be no shame in admitting that a person wasn't quite the right fit for a job, you see.” He ended his his little speech with a pointedly lifted eyebrow.

Bilbo stood up, and said “I'll be sure to let you know if this round peg has trouble fitting into the dragon shaped hole in your mountain. Good night.”

After the guide decisively walked to his room at the back of the inn, another sigh sounded, this time from Thorin. Balin patted him on the back.

“I know you think his gifts are too weak to be of help to the quest, but I say we trust Gandalf on this one,” Balin consoled.

“Balin, you must question it too! There is never the slightest sense of talent from him. If I hadn't felt a touch from him when I knocked on his Hobbit hole, I wouldn't believe he had them at all.” Thorin heard Dwalin snicker behind his head and belatedly realized what he had said. Balin looked to Dori, who sat near Dwalin, and Dori reached out to slap the back of a tattooed head.

“I've never felt anything like I usually would from a guide,” Balin said after he was sure Dwalin had been appropriately chastised. “But the night he signed the contract, I felt... something. Something quiet, but deep and old. It may be different because he's a Hobbit guide, or it may be because he's tightly bound up inside for some reason, like the wizard says. In any case, try to stop worrying about it. I know, I know! That's like asking a river to stop flowing, but I'll say it nonetheless.” He clapped his hand on Thorin's back once more, before standing up and holding a hand out to Dori so they could go back to their room.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, they said farewell to mattresses and pressed on further into the wilderness. This naturally coincided with the most torrential downpour that had been seen in recent years. It was cold, heartless weather that didn't give a single shit that it had no business being here so close to June. Bilbo was having trouble keeping his hood from dripping into his eyes and cursing himself for ever leaving behind his warm hearth and lovely teapot. So distracted was he by his own grumbling that he missed the sense of mischief emanating from the pony riders behind and to the left of him.

Soon enough though, Fíli rode up to Bilbo's right and Kíli to his left. “Are you enjoying the weather, Mr. Baggins?” called over Fíli.

“I'm enjoying it the way one might enjoy a swift kick to the backside,” answered the guide tartly.

Kíli responded through a grin, “So you prefer other things for your backside, then?”

Bilbo finally turned his empathy from holding on to his own disgruntled feelings and reached out to the riders on either side of him. What he felt caused him to nearly fall from his pony.

“No, I will certainly NOT be joining your bedroll!” he yelled. Honestly, the cheek of these two!

Kíli pouted. “Why not? You aren't bonded or married. You don't even have a bond of convenience! I promise we would make it worth any lost sleep.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“My number of years is less than yours, but I am nearly middle aged for my kind. It is _painfully_ obvious that you two are barely considered adults. No, I have no need to be playing bedsports with younglings, thank you.”

Kíli looked ready to argue with all the fire of a young person who is being called young, but Fíli opened his mouth first. “How did you know what we were going to ask?”

“I know our dear leader doubts it, but I _am_ in fact a guide. The lasciviousness pouring from you two is enough to choke a prostitute. Not to mention the question about backside preferences,” he shot a look at Kíli.

Fíli frowned. “I am also a guide, and there is no way I could have missed a fellow guide using their gifts around me. It's one of my specialties.” Bilbo could feel the fluffy pride Fíli had in his talents, and metallic concern that they might not be quite as great as previously believed.

Bilbo huffed. “Well, _my_ specialty is ensuring that no one knows when I'm using my gifts, or that I have them at all.” This concept was still over the dwarves head. Why on earth would anyone with talents not be proud to show them off? Unless they hadn't worked to cultivate and sharpen them, which would be an affront to Mahal who gifted them. However, that did not seem to be the case for their burglar.

“How do you use them without me noticing?” If Fíli knew how the other guide was doing it, maybe he could learn to see around it. “If you were using your empathy to cloud my head, I would still at least feel the initial touch, and a subject of empathy always knows a foreign emotion after it's been lifted.”

“Not necessarily!” interjected Balin, yelling back from in front the trio. “What about the Poppy Tongued?” Fíli startled at this before shooting a distrustful look at Bilbo.

“What?!” Bilbo demanded . “What is a Poppy Tongue?”

“It's what we call guides who use their gifts for wicked,” Balin answered. “It’s the greatest wrong one dwarf can do to another. The Poppy Tongued are those who would use their gifts and words to plant thoughts into another's mind.” Bilbo very carefully did not freeze at these words, but clamped down on the gifts inside himself. Balin continued, “You of course know that normally an empathetic subject can rarely resist an emotion being thrust onto them, but are usually aware that it is not coming from them. I won't go into detail, but Poppy Tongues try make a person believe the feelings are coming from themselves. They use a combination of short periods of projected empathy and suggestion over a long period of time to make the subject believe whatever it is the Poppy Tongued wants them to believe.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “That's horrible! That truly sounds like the worst thing a guide could do,” he said fervently. “I promise, Fíli, that is not anything like what I am doing. I merely keep my gifts... low, I suppose is the word for it. I sort of come at you from underneath. I also never reach out with a solid push of power, only fingers or sometimes little pinpricks. Here, if it's alright with you, I will cast out to you and you try to sense me, alright?” Fíli nodded his agreement, and Bilbo focused his gifts on Fíli. He prodded at the space around Fíli, feeling his concentration and the slight wariness, before Bilbo reached into Fíli with his gifts.

There was a solid casing of what would nicely be called self-assuredness (and not as nicely be called cockiness) around him. Beyond that, there was a weight of responsibility that seemed to ting intermittently as it bumped up against a little rolling ball of rascally intent. But what most intrigued the burglar was the bright, burning core of Fíli. It was Kíli. It must have been. The way the core vibrated and sparked didn't seem in line at all with the rest of what Bilbo knew of the dwarf. But it did seem like it could have been a missing puzzle piece from his bonded brother. Bilbo could not spare the concentration from riding a pony to use his gifts to read Fíli _and_ Kíli, but he made a mental note to ask permission to do it later. Just then he felt a burst of excitement.

“I feel it! I think I feel it!” exclaimed Fíli. “It must be you, but it's not quite like anything I've felt from a dwarven guide. It's so quiet and light, yet deep. Your gifts run very deep, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo chuckled, “I think you can call me Bilbo. You were after all about to try and talk me into the middle of a dwarven sandwich.”

At this Kíli finally rejoined the conversation, wheedling and cajoling more for something to do than out of any real burning desire to bed the guide. Bilbo's spirits were considerably lightened with the puzzle of Fíli and Kíli's bond, and the afternoon passed more pleasantly despite the flood beating down on their heads.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere behind the grey clouds, the sun must have set because it began to get even darker. The rain tapered off as the company began to set up camp and had stopped completely by the time supper was ready. Bilbo had not been given any task (the others still seemed to think him a little useless) so he volunteered to take the night's stew to Fíli and Kíli, who were guarding the ponies. Holding two bowls and using his empathy to guide his direction, he headed away from camp.

Not even halfway there, Bilbo noticed a shift in the emotions leading him to the brothers. They were emitting the aggressive sexual ferociousness Bilbo was coming to recognize as unique to, and unfortunately common from, the pair with the true bond. The burglar hesitated, but reasoned that they needed food more than sex, and were supposed to be guarding the ponies anyway. He started calling out as he got closer, keen to avoid catching an eyeful, and he broke through to their spot just as they were hastily re-buttoning each other's trousers. Bilbo very loudly did not say anything as he handed over their stew. Once the boys started eating, the hobbit stuck his thumbs behind his braces and rocked back on his heels, remembering his desire to question the two about their bond.

“You know, I've never met a pair with a true bond before.”

“I'm not surprised, if there are as few gifted hobbits as you say. It's even rare among dwarves and there are much more of us,” said Fíli.

“Yeah,” interjected Kíli, mouth full. “There are maybe a few hundred pairs in Ered Luin. 'Course, everyone knew we would be a true match. We've been a working pair in everything from the time I was born. From stealing cookies-”

“-to hunting-”

“-to distracting Uncle from lectures-”

“-to distracting Balin from lessons-”

“-to the day I presented as a sentinel!” Kíli finished proudly. “We bonded that same day.”

“Really?” asked Bilbo, a bit shocked. “That's a huge commitment to make in a single day. And no one had any problem you two being...”

“Brothers? Nah, I know among other races it's not done, and I mean it's not exactly common among dwarves either, but our gifts were a true match. We were shaped to be together according to Mahal's will. To ignore that kind of thing is not only an insult to the Maker, but also the surest way drive yourself into insanity.”

“Besides,” added Fíli, “a bond of any kind happens when the choice to form it is made, right? Kíli and I decided a long time ago that we would never be divided. When our gifts turned out to be a true match, it was just proof that we had made the right choice back then. It gave us the opportunity to make it more complete.”

Bilbo simply didn't understand trusting someone that much, true match or not. This deserved further research. “Kíli, I noticed something in your brother when I was using my gifts earlier today. There was a piece that seemed out of place; as if it had come from you, actually. I was wondering if you would allow me to have a look to see if the same could be said of you?”

Kíli shrugged. “Sure. I've been wanting to see if I can feel you use your gifts anyway. Fíli says it's hard, but I think he's just lazy.” He shot a quick grin at his brother who playfully shoved back at him.

“Thank you Kíli,” said Bilbo, eager to see. He mentally reached out to touch for the second time that day, making his talents a little bolder than he had earlier. Rather than the solid shell that encased Fíli, Kíli seemed to be covered in bright static, constantly moving and looking for something to reach out and touch. Bilbo delved past what was obviously a manifestation of Kíli's excitement for the world, and next encountered a bouncing ball of mischief, larger than the rolling one that resided in Fíli. The ball bounced on a solid platform of determination, which sat upon... a stone heart. Not cold, no no. It was very warm, very stable, and very obviously something that belonged to Fíli. As Bilbo was making a careful examination and wondering how a bond would result in something like this, Kíli was getting more frustrated.

“Is he doing anything Fíli? I can't feel it. What's he doing?” Fíli was also concentrating (on Bilbo, not his bond partner) but he paused, and told Kíli, “Remember when Amad would make cookies, how we used to sit quietly under the kitchen table and sneak sugared dates out through that crack that ran in the middle? Amad never noticed until we'd taken a few because she wasn't focused on the bottom of the pile, she was focused on the parts she was using. That's kind of how Bilbo uses his talents.”

Kíli frowned, before scrunching up his face and focusing. “I FEEL IT!” He suddenly yelled. The burglar startled and immediately pulled back into himself. “Oh, you're gone now. But I felt it! You don't feel anything like Fíli does.”

“Well, it's not as if every sentinel uses their talents exactly the same, now is it?” he snapped crossly, unhappy with how he'd been startled. “Speaking of, I hope you're using your talents to keep track of the ponies. Where are they exactly?”

“You passed them on the way in here!... Didn't you?” Kíli turned his head, and both Bilbo and Fíli could feel him using his gifts to listen for the ponies. They glanced around, waiting, before they felt a wave of nausea pass over Kíli. He had turned white. “Shit.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Trolls. You were so distracted by trying to get into my clothes that you didn't notice _trolls_ stealing four of our ponies!”

“It's not as if you were a reluctant participant, and you didn't notice either!”

“ _I'm_ not a **sentinel!** ”

“Shut up, both of you!” Bilbo barked as quietly as he could. “Stop arguing and start figuring out how we're going to get them back.”

“Let's go get the wizard!” whispered Fíli, but Kíli was already shaking his head.

“Gandalf scampered off somewhere this morning. He's been missing all day. Didn't you _notice?”_

Fíli glared at his brother.

Bilbo hadn't noticed this either, and it was very uncomfortable information indeed.

They were all very quiet, thinking. Then Kíli spoke up:

“Well... you are a burglar.”

Bilbo didn't like where this was going.

“And a very talented guide too!” added Fíli.

Bilbo _really_ didn't like where this was going.

“You can just sneak over and untie them!”

“It should be easy for someone with your gifts!”

“If you get into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a horned owl.”

And with that, the tiny burglar found himself shoved toward the trolls. He turned back to give the royal dwarves the meanest look he could manage, but continued towards the fire where the trolls sat. He thought that the boys were right about one thing (just the one, mind you): He was a burglar, and he had been hired specifically as such. Even if the rest of the company were alerted, he would still be the one to retrieve the ponies. Completely silent, he crept up behind the backs of the trolls.

 

“Yer know what I miss? Manflesh," said one of the beastly trolls.”Never a blinking bit of manflesh have we had for long enough. What the 'ell William was thinking bringing us into these parts-” He broke off with a yelp. The troll Bilbo assumed was William drew back his wooden spoon from bashing it over the head of the first troll.

“Shut up Tom! Can't expect folk to show up just to be et by you and Bert, can ya? You've et a village and a half between yer since we come down from the mountain. And never a nice 'Thank yer Bill' for a nice bit o' fat valley mutton or a good horse leg. Noooo....” He stuck his spoon back into the pot he was stirring.

Bilbo had been trying his damndest to get the ponies untied, but the trolls had made such a mess of the rope knot that he was finding it impossible. He spotted a knife in the back pocket of Bert and decided to risk it. Darting through the underbrush, he crouched directly behind the brute with the knife and smoothly slid his talents over the troll. Definitely not pausing to read Bert's current emotions or deeper personality, the guide subtly flooded him with a drowsy sense of contentment. This was an old tactic he had used in his youth to great effectiveness. It seemed to be working very well now too.

Really well.

Really very well.

The troll was tipping over directly in the direction of Bilbo.

Letting out a yelp, he darted to the side, and unfortunately directly into the middle of the three ugly beasts. William snatched up Bilbo in his fist quick as can be, and said “Blimey, Bert, look what I've copped!... Bert? What's Bert doin'?”

Tom stood for a closer look while Bert sat up looking quite confused. “What is it?” asked Tom. “What are 'oo?” he poked at the burglar.

“A bur-a hobbit.” Poor Bilbo was shaking, and wondering what kind of sound a horned owl makes.

“A burrahobbit? Can yeh cook 'em?” Tom directed at William.

“Yer can try, “ said Bert, picking up a skewer.

“He wouldn't make above a mouthful,” said William.

“Maybe there's more about, we could turn them into pie. Are there more burrahobbits 'round here?” said Tom, shaking Bilbo in his fist.

“Nope, none at all. We're not pack animals, you see,” replied Bilbo, trying to think of a way out of this.

“Pack animals? Yer got a pack o' animals aroun' here? Where is it?”

“No-”

Bert interjected “He's tryin' ta hide it from us! Let's hold 'im over the fire 'til he talks.”

Bilbo was truly frightened now, but even more afraid of what would happen if he tried to influence the trolls minds. Bert really should not have reacted the way he had, and Bilbo didn't know if trying to calm them would send them into a coma or throw them into a murderous rage.

Suddenly a great warrior cry went up, and who should run into the troll's camp but Kíli. Swinging his sword, he cut shallow slices across the back of Bert's legs before more cries went up and the rest of the company came running towards the fire. Thorin sprinted up to William and stabbed at his arm, causing him to drop Bilbo, who rolled away and sprinted back to the edge of the camp where the ponies were. He snatched up the knife that had come away from Bert when he fell over earlier, and started sawing at the damnable ropes holding the ponies. As he worked, he cast around the fight with his gifts, looking for any of the sentinels who might need support from a guide.

The first rope finally broke, and as he started working on the second, he felt his gifts slide perfectly into place next to one of the five sentinels fighting among the trolls. Without stopping his sawing of the rope, he offered up focus and guidance to the sentinel. Whoever this sentinel was immediately accepted the help, and suddenly Bilbo was thrown entirely off balance.

Energy trilled through him. The feeling of his gifts working in tandem with his sentinels' was so delicious that he could think of nothing else. His hands kept moving of their own accord and distantly he felt the second rope snap and the ponies gallop past him. Suddenly his focus was allowed to shift, and he could feel the placement of every soul in the camp. He felt which of the gifted were burning through their talents, could tell who was feeding the battle with anger or fear or determination. He knew which souls shone and which ones sung. It was too much, far too much. Bilbo should never have been able to experience all of this. He couldn't comprehend what was happening or why it was happening and he was one hundred percent, completely distracted.

“GOTCHA!” yelled Tom as he snatched Bilbo up. Bilbo dangled in the air, the adrenaline of his newly refound danger finally enough to wrangle his gifts back under his control. “Put down yer weapons or wu'll start tearin' off legs!”

The dwarves stilled silently as Bilbo thought _this is it. This is how I meet my end. May Yavanna have mercy and let me die before I have to smell the breath of any of these stupid beasts._ Then Thorin threw down his sword and Bilbo honestly could not have been more surprised. Why was he putting the entire company at risk for a guide who he thought wasn't even a real guide?

 

Quick as a wink, the trolls had the entire company tied up and ready for roasting. “I ain't had dwarf in years!” cheerfully said William. “I can't even remember how yer 'poust to cook 'em. And I never 'ad a burrahobbit. Praps we should sit on 'em and squash 'em into jelly.”

Bilbo snorted at this (clearly they had never done proper canning of jams and jellys. That's just not how it's done) before he had an idea.

“Oh, you really must cook us properly. I always assumed I would meet my demise in some food related incident, I just never thought it would be because I became the food. However I'm not so bothered by being cooked as much as I'm bothered by how I'll be cooked. I just couldn't stand for us to go to the end as a substandard meal!”

He could feel more than hear the confused whispers of the dwarves surrounding him. William, however, looked intrigued. “Yeah? How would yeh cook yerselfs?”

“Ah, well...” At that moment Bilbo saw movement in the corner of his eye, and thought it came with a snatch of grey. _Please let it be Gandalf,_ he thought desperately. Panicked for more time, he blurted “Skin us!” At this there was an outraged cry from the dwarves, but he spoke over them. “Skin us, and then you must be really careful. These dwarves all have... parasites. In their tubes. Yes, all over their tubes, and they are very contagious!”

“I don't have parasites, you have parasites!” yelled Kíli. Bilbo had never cursed the stupidity of the young with so much fervor. Then Bilbo noticed a tickle in his mind, and felt the recently familiar feeling of the sentinel whom he had assisted during the earlier battle. Bilbo panicked again; he couldn't afford to be overloaded right now. He hadn’t been able to afford it during the battle either, but this moment was even more imperative. However, this time he merely felt a slight flutter to his thoughts that hadn't been there before. Then he heard a kick and an outraged cry from Kíli, before a pause and then-

“I've got HUGE parasites!”

“I've got parasites as big as my arm!”

“My parasites have entire parasite families!”

Finally they were cottoning on.

“Yes,” Bilbo said “you have to be very careful when you're eating infected dwarves. Some would say you shouldn't eat them at all because you might end up with their worms digging in behind your eyeballs, but I can see you're not the type to let that sort of thing bother you. So even before you skin them, you'll need some herbs; basil and oregano and-”

“Aww!” Bert whined “I don't wanna wait for all that! Let's jus' boil 'em.”

“Jus' 'cause _you_ got no taste don't mean the rest o' us don't!” barked William.

“I got plenty o' taste and some o' that includes a taste for sleep!”

Bilbo interjected “Or you could roast us all with a little cilantro and that would help cover up some of the vomit-y flavour of the parasites-”

“You jes' don' appreciate my hard work as cook!”

“Hard work my arse! You jes' want-”

“SHUT UP!” yelled Tom “Just shut the hell up! The night's gettin' on and dawn comes early! Let's get on with it! ...Who's that?”

A tall figure had appeared at the edge of camp, and Bilbo gusted out a sigh of relief.

“Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” declared Gandalf as he brought his staff down and cracked a great boulder that had been maintaining the troll's shadow. Light broke through the camp and the trolls said nothing, because they were stone.

“I turn my back for two minutes, and you all manage to get kidnapped by trolls," Gandalf said with the air of someone who wonders how you dress yourself in the morning.

“You were gone considerably longer than two minutes, wizard," snapped Thorin. “Where did you go, if I may ask?”

“To look ahead," said Gandalf as he began to free the dwarves from their bindings.

“And what brought you back in the nick of time?”

“Looking behind.”

Thorin threw up his hands in exasperation and went to work on the other's ropes.

After Bilbo's bindings were severed, he promptly leaned forward and put his hands on his knees, staring at the ground. He took a few deep breaths. He had been kidnapped, lost control of his gifts for the second time in his entire life, and discussed cooking methods with trolls all in one night. Only one of these insistently occupied his mind, so he immediately set about feeling around for whichever sentinel he had connected with during the fight. Whoever it was was an unparalleled match for his gifts. The thought nagged at his mind that he had been fairly well matched in gifts once before and it had never felt like _that_. Which really left only one conclusion... Bilbo passed over Kíli; it couldn't be him as he had a true bond with Fíli. He quietly dipped over Bifur and Dwalin without recognizing either of them. His heart sank as he peeked into Dori and saw that it wasn't him either. He reluctantly lifted his eyes and immediately met Thorin's gaze.

The kingly dwarf had a look of amazement and wonder, as if Bilbo were suddenly some brand new creature. Bilbo found his gifts sliding into place next to Thorin without his permission, the way you automatically find yourself in your favourite armchair after a long day. He could taste bubbly euphoria from Thorin, and Bilbo found his gifts being heightened again, but this time at a much more manageable pace. The guide marveled at how _well_ he could feel Thorin in particular. His sentinel was steady, so steady, and bold and soft and a thousand other things that Bilbo couldn't categorize at the moment. There was so much minutiae to the man that Bilbo usually didn't receive and wasn't sure how to process. Then Thorin took a short step toward Bilbo, and Bilbo stopped.

He stopped _everything._

He stopped feeling, thinking, and breathing to focus on the slight tugging feeling in the back and lower part of his mind. A tug on the place where a bond would form to join him to a sentinel. A tug in the same place Donyc had always mentally twisted right before striking him with whatever he happened to be holding, and reminding him that he had no choice but to burgle as the sentinel saw fit. Gasping, Bilbo took a step back and viciously ripped his gifts away from Thorin, folding them back into himself. He turned away and started walking in the other direction.

It didn't mean anything. Some guide gifts were better suited to other sentinel gifts, it didn't mean anything. His sudden surge in talent ability could just as easily be because of adrenaline; it was his first time in a battle and certainly his first time being manhandled by trolls. It didn't mean anything.

It didn't mean anything.

After all, Thorin could hardly find his true match in someone he thought to be such a substandard guide, could he?

As Bilbo walked away with his gifts strangled so tightly, he didn't feel the light leave Thorin's mien. He didn't feel the stone that took it's place, and he didn't feel the mask that slipped over everything as the sentinel straightened himself. “Kíli!” He barked. “The next time I tell you to wait for my command to charge, you had better damn well _wait for my command.”_

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Gandalf caught up with Bilbo before too long as Bilbo was leaning up against a wall of rock, brooding.

“What has you sowing seeds of thought so deeply, Master Baggins?” To his credit, the wizard sounded genuinely concerned, but the hobbit simply could not have Gandalf getting involved in this business of bonds, matches and gifts.

He gestured with his hand toward the way from which they had come. “I can't figure out what went wrong, Gandalf. I just put a light haze of contentment over the troll, and he fell right over. Nearly on top of me! It shouldn't have been even close to enough to put him to sleep. It's a trick I've used a hundred times before with perfect results.”

“Ah, I wondered why you hadn't just put them out to sleep, or at least one or two of them. You were worried about unreliable effects of your gifts, I see. Troll’s emotion range about as far as a two legged sheep can graze, of course,” he explained. “They aren't capable of feeling more than angry, hungry, tired, or stupid. What would make the world a little soft around the edges for a hobbit, or a dwarf or a man, is going to be enough to send a troll into a happy state of unconsciousness. Real lightweights, I'm afraid.”

Bilbo gaped at this. He hadn't even considered. But really- “How on Yavanna's green earth was I to know that?”

“Perhaps if you had been prepared for this quest, you would have.” Bilbo stiffened at the sound of Thorin's voice. “You also probably would have realized that you're leaning up against what is most likely the troll's cave, and contains their hoard.”

Thorin was walking over towards them with the rest of the company behind him leading the ponies. He passed by the pair without looking over. Bilbo didn't dare try to feel what he was feeling. Most of the company entered the cave, excepting Fíli and Kíli who were left behind to watch the ponies ( _'and if you don't keep every sense you possess glued to them I swear to Mahal I will send you back to your mother in shame'_ Thorin had threatened). It was disgusting. Bones littered the floor, clothes much too small to fit trolls were pinned to the wall (the clothing of their meals, Bilbo realized), and the smell was absolutely foul. However, there were also pots full of gold coins in the corner, and several different kinds of swords.

Gandalf and Thorin each picked up a blade, examining them. Gandalf mused aloud, “Blades of these make are not found in these parts or in recent days. They are elvish made, and glow blue in the presence of goblins or orcs. A very handy warning bell, I believe.They are excellent swords, we would do well to take them with us. Here, Bilbo. This one is small enough to make a short sword for one of your size.”

The wizard tried to hand it over to the hobbit, who was holding up both hands palms forward and shaking his head. “I've no idea what to do with a sword, Gandalf! I'm just as likely to stab myself as any opponent.”

Thorin took the blade from Gandalf and pierced Bilbo with his gaze before placing the hobbit’s hands on the hilt. “You'll take a weapon if you are going to refuse the protection of a bond,” he said lowly. “Have one of the others teach you to use it. Let us bury the treasure in a safe place and get out of this wretched stink.” And he swiftly walked away from the cave, directing the others to haul the gold and where to dig.

Gandalf looked at the sentinel's back and then slowly back to Bilbo. Bilbo didn’t meet his eyes and followed Thorin out of the cave.

 

As they worked to bury the treasure, Thorin chafed at the memory of the troll battle. He had known immediately that the guide offering assistance was Bilbo; he was too familiar with everyone else not to recognize them. And then, the second he had allowed the support, he had _known_ what was happening. The sudden initial surge in strength, the feeling of _wholeness;_ it was exquisite. He had a true match, and it was found in a hobbit! Thorin may have been a bit surprised that his match wasn’t a dwarf, but who was he to question Mahal? And there was such _depth_ to the burglar’s gifts! How he managed to hide it entirely was a mystery.

When the mountain troll had picked up Bilbo and threatened him, Thorin had nearly gone into a berserker rage. He had just found his true match; _no one_ was going to take that from him. And then his talented riddle of a guide had stalled for time and saved their lives. As they lay there trussed up like fowl, he had briefly thought of what an asset having such a clever Guide Consort would be to the kingdom.

There had been no question in his mind about their being bonded and eventually married; of course they would. True matches were a gift from the Valar. No one denied the opportunity for a true bond… Except, apparently, for hobbits.

When their eyes had met after being freed, he had experienced again that beautiful feeling of coming together perfectly. He was nearly giddy at the revelation of a divinely intended companion for himself. How he could merit something like this was a mystery to him.

He had started to move towards his intended bondmate, reaching out mentally and physically when that feeling of rightness was startlingly torn away. The burglar had looked horrified at him, before hurrying away from all the others.

At first, Thorin had just been confused. Slowly and coldly, he began to realize that Bilbo had no intention of even speaking to him, much less bonding with him. _Fool,_ he thought to himself, _as if he is going to rush into your embrace. You’ve done nothing but suggest he’s untalented as a guide._ But something had to be said for the stubbornness of the hobbit: he had clearly done everything to hide just how talented he really was; how was Thorin to know? And how could Bilbo possibly deny a true match? The hobbit seemed to hate the idea of bonds as a whole.

No, he couldn’t call this over before it had even had a chance. There was time for tensions to cool, and then they would talk. Surely the hobbit would see reason eventually.

 

No one wanted to stay close to the troll cave, so despite their tiredness they packed up and traveled that afternoon. Everyone was quiet most of the day, but by the time evening had arrived Kíli and Fíli seemed to have decided that the whole “Troll Adventure” (as they were calling it) had been a fun diversion.

“We should arrive in Rivendell tomorrow,” Gandalf said to Thorin that evening as they sat around a fire. Thorin harrumphed into his pipe and refused to look up. Bilbo, however, perked at this.

“Rivendell? Are we going to see the elves?” He asked as a grin overtook his face.

“That's hardly anything to get excited about, Master Baggins. The undistinguished swine are hardly going to encourage our quest and may indeed try to keep us from it!” Thorin bit out.

Bilbo could feel the pointed needles of hostility pushing out from Thorin, but rather than address something he could already well explain, he asked “Undistinguished? Are there no elven sentinels or guides?”

“No, Bilbo,” said Gandalf. “All elves are born with sentinel-like senses,  but for them to live their immortally long lives with the gifts of a guide? That would be agony.”

Bilbo considered this. Truly, there were times when the empathy of a guide was exhausting. Even keeping his gifts to himself as he did, Bilbo was constantly receiving a flow of information from those around him. He ignored the feelings as best as he could, but if the emotions of a room crested, he would be carried away on it whether he wanted to or not. Bilbo usually just sat still and rode the wave of feelings until it receded. It was unpleasant and sometimes even painful, but Bilbo always reminded himself that feelings were part of what made life for people, and life only lasted so long. But if he had an eternity of that ahead of him? An eternity of experiencing other's pain and anguish, and only being able to help a fraction of them... Bilbo thought he understood.

“Well, what's that about elves trying to keep you from your quest? Why... Oh. Dragon, of course.” Silently thinking that they did have a point, out loud he said “Then why are we stopping?”

Thorin looked as though he'd eaten a mouthful of unripe sour cherries and aggressively looked at the wizard, who said “We need Lord Elrond to look at the map. There is some ancient dwarvish that we cannot translate that could be important. We have a long day of travel tomorrow, and the path is not easily followed. We should get to sleep.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

They arose before dawn and rode all the next day. Gandalf took the lead, ostensibly because he knew where they were going, but even he seemed to have trouble keeping them in the right direction. Eventually though, they heard singing through the trees and came to the Last Homely House West of the Mountains. Lord Elrond, master of the house, was there to meet them in the evening.

“Welcome, Thorin son of Thráin!”

Thorin gave him an unmistakable side eye and said “I did not believe we had met.”

“I knew your father. You carry his bearing.”

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.”

Bilbo could have strangled the dwarf. It was one thing to allow hideous dwarrow manners, and another to outright insult someone (an _Elf Lord_ ) who was welcoming you into their home. Before he could think better of his own manners, Bilbo shot a direct arrow of annoyance at Thorin. Who knew if it would even make an impact among whatever the prince was already feeling.

“Come, please allow us to take your burdens. We have food prepared that we are more than willing to share.”

At this, Thorin seemed to remember his tired company and the fact that he was supposedly a gracious royal. “You have our thanks Lord Elrond.”

 

“Burglar!” called Thorin after dinner as the others took themselves to their rooms. “I have need of your guide gifts. You as well, Balin.” Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Balin, thoroughly surprised that Thorin was even acknowledging his possession of guide gifts, much less asking him to make use of them. Balin simply tilted his head in Thorin's direction, bidding him to follow.

Together they entered a balcony that already held Gandalf and Lord Elrond seated at a table. They rose as the three gifted entered the room. Thorin unsubtly pulled out a chair next to Elrond and stared at Bilbo. Giving an internal shrug at this, Bilbo took the seat and watched as Thorin sat on his other side and everyone settled themselves.

Bilbo took a moment to assess the feelings in the room. Gandalf was an enigma, as always. An odd mix of contentment, alertness and humor gently sat around him, but never seemed to actually touch him. Bilbo idly wondered if it would be the same of any Maiar or if Gandalf was unique in his empathetic colors. Lord Elrond didn't seem to emit much feeling at all, besides a light air of curiosity. Balin felt suspicious and wary, as if he were barely holding back from trying to pull Thorin out of the conversation that was about to happen. Thorin himself... Bilbo felt him the most. He had done so since the trolls, and spent most of his time trying not to, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. Thorin just stood out now. He had much more detail, like viewing the painting of a great master against pages of sketches done by his students. Thorin was just as suspicious and wary as Balin, but also resigned. He was _so_ tense, and it was just as much out of self preservation as anything else that Bilbo reached out to soothe Thorin's mind. He honestly didn't think it would be welcome, so he kept the touch light and fleeting before pulling back. To his surprise, he felt Thorin give a pang of longing as soon as he withdrew. Bilbo sneaked a glance at Thorin to find his face completely impassive and looking at Lord Elrond. The burglar carefully replaced the peaceful balm to his seat neighbor as Gandalf began speaking.

“The interest is mainly academic, you see,” he said, gesturing to Thorin to pull out the map. “You still speak ancient dwarvish, do you not? There are some runes...”

“Erebor?” Elrond's eyebrows rose as he gently took the map. While the elf's eyes were occupied, Thorin looked directly at Bilbo and then pointed his head at Elrond while feeling a deliberate suspicion. Ah, so that's why he wants me here, thought Bilbo. Well, he always did enjoy a challenge. Bilbo had no idea if an elf would be able to tell if Bilbo were using his empathy. Keeping one empathic hand on Thorin, as it were, he reached out weightless, questioning fingers to learn the feelings around Lord Elrond. There was a certain low level of detachment, but also a definite hum of disapproval and interest in the map taking up his focus.

“There are moon letters,” he said, standing suddenly. The rest of the table somewhat scrambled to follow him to the edge of the balcony, where Lord Elrond was holding up the ancient map to the moon light.

“What are moon letters?” asked the hobbit, when it seemed no one else was going to.

“Moon letters are rune letters, but you cannot see them,” said Elrond, “not when you look straight at them. They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them, and what is more, with the more cunning sort it must be a moon of the same shape and season as the day when they were written. The dwarves invented them,” Bilbo could feel a swell of pride from both Balin and Thorin, “and wrote them with silver pens. These must have been written on a midsummer's eve in a crescent moon, a long while ago.”

“What do they say?” asked Gandalf and Thorin together, Thorin leaning forward as if he wanted to snatch the map back and were just barely holding himself from doing it.

“‘Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks,’” read Lord Elrond, “‘and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole.’”

Balin and Thorin grinned at each other.

“Thank you very much Lord Elrond. We owe you much for giving us the gift of our ancestors words. It has been a long journey, I think perhaps my company members and myself will seek out beds now. Thank you again, good night.” Thorin took the map back and gave an incline of his head before turning towards the door, expecting Balin and Bilbo to follow. Bilbo, stunned for a moment at the sudden exit, hurried after.

When they reached the corridor housing the company, Thorin opened a door and darted inside, holding it open for the other two to follow. After the closed the door, he opened the curtains to allow the room to be flooded with moonlight and simply asked “Well?”

Bilbo looked at Balin and then cleared his throat. “I'm sure Elrond knows the true purpose of your desire to know the map. However, while he does not seem to approve, he also doesn't seem inclined to stop us.”

Balin nodded. “That was mostly what I gathered as well. I didn't really have a hope that we could prevent him from seeing straight through any ruse Gandalf thought he could concoct- academic interest indeed- but tonight I did not feel any intent to keep us from our quest. But that doesn't mean he won't change his mind! We should not linger here, Thorin. Let's stay long enough to recover and resupply, and then we should be on our way. We will make it home before Durin's Day!”

The two dwarves gripped each other's shoulders and knocked their foreheads together. There was so much joy and relief in the action that Bilbo felt as though he was intruding, and began inching towards the door. Before he could get far though, Balin patted Thorin on the cheek and said “Dori waits for me. I'll help see to restocking our packs in the morning, Thorin.” He smiled at Bilbo as he quickly left and closed the door behind him.

Suddenly alone with Thorin and feeling a bit awkward, Bilbo said the only thing that came to his mind. “I didn't know he and Dori were bonded,” and then immediately cringed at himself for bringing up the topic of bonds with the single person that he absolutely should not be doing that.

“Yes, a bond of choice. They had a particularly easy time coming together. Balin has a gift specialty of feeling how people connect with one another. Who is bonded, who would make a good bond, who despise one another. It's very useful during political meetings, and one of the many reasons he is my advisor. It's also how he knew that he and Dori were well matched right when they met. They were bonded and then married shortly after,” he paused, “have you truly never been bonded, Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo sharply responded “I never said that.”

“Oh.” Thorin sounded surprised, and Bilbo could feel that he was a little hurt by Bilbo's tone. He sighed. Even rude kings had feelings, and he could not ignore that. He supposed that out of anyone in the world, he could share a bit with Thorin. Unearthing the memories was painful, and Bilbo knew from the stories surrounding the dwarf prince that he was no stranger to pain. Perhaps he would understand.

“Just after my mother died, and a few years before I came of age, I had a bond of convenience with a man I met in Bree. I was there to distract myself and mostly just causing minor amounts of trouble. Donyc was a sentinel also interested in mischief who was very impressed with my burglary skills. I was flattered, and he was... distracting. Our talents were a fair match; nothing spectacular but more than comfortable enough for a bond of convenience. It wasn't until later that I realized exactly the kind of awful things for which he wanted to use our bond and my burglary. The breaking of our bond did not go well.”

This barely brushed the surface of the whole story, but he could bring himself no further. Any more explanation of just how badly the bond had broken would at least result in Thorin casting him out of the company, or worse. As he had spoken, Bilbo had wrapped his gifts around himself tighter and tighter, as if he could shrink them both into nonexistence. He startled when he felt a large warm hand lightly touch his sleeve.

“I am sorry,” said Thorin, and Bilbo could feel his sincerity. “In my culture, those who abuse the responsibilities and endowment of a bond are punished to the highest degree. For someone to attempt to misuse that connection to someone so young is truly disgusting.”

Bilbo's throat tightened. The words shouldn't have made him feel better, but they did. He relaxed enough to send a wave of gratitude to Thorin. However, the sentinel's words didn't stop there.

“They say a true bond is an experience beyond compare... perhaps even beyond compare to a bond of convenience.”

“Thorin-”

“I know you felt it during the battle with the trolls. I know it was you,” Bilbo could feel a slight desperation from him now. “Our talents are a true match, a rare gift from Mahal!”

“Our talents are a very good match, I don't know if-”

“Then we will ask Balin! He would be able to tell us if they are true.”

 _“Even if we were,”_ said Bilbo emphatically, “I do not possess that kind of _trust,_ Thorin!”

“You think a future king and the leader of our company is untrustworthy?” Bilbo could feel outrage beginning to war with the desperation, and feeling Thorin as keenly as he did he was having a hard time keeping himself separate from it.

“You didn't even believe I was a real guide until two days ago! Who thinks who is untrustworthy?”

“I was concerned for your safety!”

“It was still my choice to make!!”

“The future of an entire _kingdom_ hinges upon this journey!”

“So you don't actually want to bond with _me,_ you want to avail yourself of the increase in gifts that might _come with_ a bond with me."

"That is _not_ what I-"

They had not realized that their voices were rising, and Bilbo had not realized the emotions they were projecting from the room until the door opened.

“Alrigh' in here?” There stood Dwalin and Nori, and Nori was definitely wearing Dwalin's shirt. So there was third bonded pair in the company. Bilbo threw his hands up in the air at his frustration with dwarves and their insistence that guides and sentinels be matched up like neat little salt and pepper shaker sets.

“Everything is fine, I was just leaving.” Bilbo quickly made his exit and with great determination did not slam his own bedroom door. Well. Not much.

Back in Thorin's room, Nori let out a low whistle. “You could make bricks out of the tension in here,” he said.

“Are you alrigh'?” Dwalin asked again, this time directly at Thorin. Thorin sat down on the bed, put his head in his hands and muffled out, “I'm fine. Everything is fine. I'm sure Nori can tell you exactly how fine everything is. Go back to bed, Dwalin. We won't be staying here long, you may as well take advantage of the tree shaggers accommodations while you have them.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

They stayed at Rivendell for a few days while their ponies were reshod and their energies rebuilt. Bilbo didn't spend his days _avoiding_ Thorin, per se, but if he happened to spend most of his time in the library where the dwarves seemed to have no interest, well then that was just that, wasn't it? In any case, Thorin took Balin's advice to heart and soon they were back on the journey to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Once back on the road, Thorin kept staring at Bilbo when he thought he wasn’t looking. In turn, Bilbo found himself contemplating the troll battle and the argument in Thorin’s quarters far more often than he would have liked. He needed a distraction.

It was time to brush up on his burglary skills.

He had never let them fade, precisely, but if he was going to be stealing from a dragon, then some practice was in order. The hobbit started small, and sat next to Bofur during lunch one day. When they got up to get back on their ponies, Bofur realized he wasn’t wearing his gloves. He scratched his head before noticing them tucked under his pony’s saddle. Shrugging, he decided he must have taken them off before lunch and forgotten. Bilbo smiled to himself and flexed his fingers.

That night, a large pile of knives appeared next to the fire. “Did you want to borrow my whetstone, Fíli?” asked Kíli.

“What? No, why-” Fíli noticed his hidden knives neatly piled on the ground, and his eyes bugged. “How did those get there?”

“Considering where you wear most of those knives, I assume you and I are the only ones with access to them,” answered Kíli.

“No, I didn’t-” Fíli was interrupted by Ori’s rising voice.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t use your teapot Dori! I don’t even like tea!”

“It’s alright Ori,” the older brother soothed. “I’m just saying that if you’re taking an interest in brewing, then I’d love to teach you. I certainly didn’t make this pot, and as you and Nori are the only ones who know where I keep it-”

“Maybe Nori made it then!”

Nori and Dori both snorted.

A sharp exclamation of Khuzdul cut across the camp, and everyone looked to see Bifur marching over to dump Dwalin’s axes at his feet.

“Wha- I didn’ put those in yer bedroll! I’ve no idea how they got there! For all I know the one in yer head was gettin’ lonely and called out for some company.”

Bifur reached out quick as a wink and smacked Dwalin in the forehead before marching back to his pack.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed as he heard all the commotion happening. He quietly took stock of everything he had on his person and realized all of his rings were gone. Slowly, he looked around at the hands of every member of the company and saw them on Glóin. He walked over, tapped him on the shoulder and retrieved them from the very confused dwarf, before spotting Bilbo and Nori sitting next to each other.

He walked up behind them, leaned forward between their heads, and quietly whispered: “I don’t know which of you is responsible for this, but in the future you might leave dinner theatre to the bards. Also you missed four of Fíli’s knives.” He quietly walked away, hiding his amusement.

The two guides sat silent for a moment before Nori leaned back and took a good look at Bilbo. Bilbo glanced over with a crooked smile.

“I didn’t miss them. I just thought it prudent to leave that kind of intimacy to Kíli.”

Nori threw his head back and laughed.

 

As they picked their path through the Misty Mountains, it seemed to go up, up up forever. Long days of travel ended with most of them too tired to do anything but eat, set a watch, and fall onto their bedrolls. They only thanked The Maker that the weather was good.

Until it wasn't.

“Watch out! Here comes another!” bellowed Dwalin. The guides and undistinguished could hear nothing over the roar of the wind and thunder, but the sentinels could hear the bouncing boulder coming from above. They pulled everyone to the side of the path, against the rock wall as the boulder passed dangerously close.

“We need to find shelter,” called out Thorin. “Look for-” but he was interrupted by another boulder, this time flying through the air. All fifteen heads looked up as one to see enormous walls of stone moving above them.

“Oh, bless me, the legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!” yelled Bofur

“This is no thunder storm, it's a thunder battle!” Balin shouted.

The giants only seemed interested in causing as much damage as possible. Slabs of rock the size of Bilbo's smial flew through the air. Jets of stone uppercut another cliff face, sending shards of stone showering upon the group of travelers.

Bilbo could feel panic begin to make it's way through the company, but was frankly in no state to do anything about it himself. Unlike the dwarves, Bilbo had never even heard of stone giants before, and he found that the little adventuresome pocket in his heart held no room for things that could stomp him into oblivion without even noticing. That was when the cliff they were pressed against split into two, carrying Fíli, Bombur, Dwalin, Bofur, Ori and Bilbo away from the rest of the company.

 _“Fíli!!”_ screamed Kíli. He lurched to jump across the gap to his bondmate before his uncle grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back.

“They are still moving! Do you expect to bring an entire cliff back together?” yelled Thorin over the storm.

“I will if it will bring Fíli back to me!”

As if in response to Kíli's impassioned (if naïve) statement, the splintered section of cliff began to swing back towards them. It was moving swiftly and seemed as if it would crash into them at any moment, when suddenly it crunched to a stop a good four yards away. From across the divide, Kíli and Thorin heard Dwalin cursing before yelling “I'm gonna throw 'em!”

Kíli and Thorin looked at each other.

“Be ready to catch! One, two, **THREE!** ”

A high pitched squeal came closer and closer, and a flame haired Ori appeared through the darkness of the storm, arms windmilling frantically. Thorin neatly caught him and righted him onto his feet before Dori snatched him forward and started checking closely for any harm. Next came Bilbo, who was too shaky to move far once he was back on his feet, so he just clutched to the wall directly behind Thorin. Fíli was next, who Kíli caught and then refused to let go of. Bofur came after, saying that they had better ready themselves because Bombur would likely need a few sentinels to catch him. Dori and Bifur stood next to Thorin and together they made a net big and strong enough to capture even the vastness of Bombur.

“Clear the way, I'm comin' next!” yelled Dwalin, and everyone scrambled to give enough space. Everyone except Bilbo, that is, who was too busily thanking Yavanna for solid ground under his furred toes to notice what was happening. Before anyone could snatch the burglar, Dwalin hurtled into view and slammed down right next to Bilbo, who stumbled back and tumbled right off the cliff.

“BILBO!” screamed Thorin, launching himself over Dwalin to see the hobbit hanging just in sight, clutching to the most well-placed branch that has ever existed in Middle-Earth. Thorin easily swung himself down and grabbed the guide, pushing him up before using his sentinel strength to climb back up himself.

“I thought we'd lost our burglar,” said Dwalin, clearly feeling a little guilty at knocking him off.

“He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come, he has no place amongst us,” burst out Thorin before stalking away.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Shortly, they found a cave in which to pass the night. Neither Fíli & Kíli nor Dwalin & Nori had stopped touching since being reunited, as if constantly reassuring each other of their safety. Ori was adamantly refusing that he even knew how to squeal, much less had done so mid-air. Bofur was making jokes about perhaps joining the ravens when they reached Erebor while Bombur comforted himself with a handful of biscuits saved from Rivendell. Thorin was refusing to look at anyone, and Bilbo was just sick to death of everything.

He could feel the frenetic worry and high strung stress behind Thorin's awful words, and could even feel the guilt for them now, but it did not erase that he had said them. Worst of all, Bilbo had a heaping suspicion that his words had been correct. These dwarves deserved to reclaim their homeland, but why did Bilbo think he should be the one to help them do it? Thorin had stated it plainly: the future of an entire _kingdom_ lay at the feet of this quest. Was Bilbo really the best choice to help him take on that burden? Despite his gifted abilities, he had a proven record of being unable to help even himself without hurting others in the process. Most likely if they ever even reached the mountain, Bilbo would somehow be responsible for a second dragon showing up to mate with the current dragon so they could have hundreds of little fire breathing babies. Bilbo sighed.

Yet somehow, the idea of abandoning the company was even more painful than the idea of causing their failure. As others settled down around him to sleep, Bilbo tried to visualize himself putting on his pack and walking out of the cave alone. A sea of nausea rose in him, and the gifted portion of his brain snarled at the idea. This guide was no idiot. As much as he wanted to deny it, Bilbo knew that Thorin was indeed probably a true match for his own talents. Some like to call the event of a true bond destiny or fate. Even some young hobbit tweens liked to sigh over how romantic it all was, but Bilbo knew differently. It was the most important thing Belladonna had taught her son.

 

“Your choice is always what matters,” Bella had told her child once. “A bond between a sentinel and a guide is one of the strongest connections a person can have, and it is not one that can be made or broken lightly. A bond of convenience, like Master Gamgee and I have, is the most common and lightest of all bonds. We do not share more than a mild presence in each other's minds, but it's enough to prevent most instances of swooning or zoning. If either of us do happen to slip away, the other knows to come help immediately. If someday we or the Gamgees needed to move far away, or if there was another reason to break our bond, as long as we did so with no bad feelings then the bond would be broken cleanly and with no mental upset. However, if I insulted Master Gamgee's petunia bed and told him that his pumpkins looked like sickly tomatoes instead of proper squash, then we would both suffer from breaking the bond.”

Bilbo had just been a little lad at the time, and no one had any idea if he would take after the wild and gifted Took side of the family or the more respectable and untalented Baggins line, but the tyke was fascinated by this world his mother inhabited.

“You would suffer? Like Da the day after Mister Proudfoot's party last week?”

His mother chuckled and said “Not quite the same. If a bond is broken with bad feelings, then the newly separated guide and sentinel would both be very sad. They could be in a room full of cake and still not happy enough to enjoy the taste! They would also have trouble concentrating and controlling their own gifts. Zones and swoons are common after a badly broken bond, even one as light as a bond of convenience.”

Belladonna never really described what a zone was like, but Bilbo had seen her during one once and it was quite scary enough. His mother had had a headache that day, but was still working on some embroidery for her niece's wedding chest while Bilbo colored on the floor. Suddenly the white needlework dropped to the floor, which Bilbo knew was against the rules because it might get dirty. He looked up to his mother to remind her that she wasn't supposed to do that and saw that she was still staring at her lap. She wasn't blinking. “Ma? Momma?” She didn't respond. Bilbo was starting to get a little scared, so he tugged on her hand. Maybe she had just fallen asleep with her eyes open, the way Old Mister Burrow said he did. She didn't respond, so Bilbo tugged harder and spoke louder “Momma! Ma wake up!!”

Suddenly their front door opened and Hamfast Gamgee scurried in, brushing the garden soil off as quickly as he could. “Bilbo son, I need ye to move back a titch. Your mam 'll be fine, but I need to be in front of her for a mo',”

Bilbo had felt comforted by young Master Gamgee's presence, and allowed space for him to help his mother, but kept a close eye just in case he needed to jump in.

Hamfast knelt gently in front of Belladonna, careful not to soil the white cloth still sitting on the floor. He looked at his still dirty hands and grimaced before putting them up to Bella's face anyway and gently touching her cheeks. “Missus Baggins? Missus Bella, where did you get to?” He nearly whispered. “Come back now. Just soften that eyesight o' yours, you don' need to be seeing anythin' that clearly right now. Your little boy is waitin' on you now Missus, come back.”

After a moment Belladonna seemed to come back to herself with a little shudder and a great inhale.

“There ya are,” said Master Gamgee.

Bella took a few deep breaths before bringing her hand up to cover Hamfast's. “Thank you, so much,” she said.

“Oh, nowt a problem, but I'm afraid I've gotten dirt on ye now. I do apologize,” the gardner said regretfully.

Bella just laughed (if a little shakily) and said “Nothing a little soap can't fix! Come on Bilbo, it's time you were washed up this morning anyway.”

“Are ye alright Missus Baggins?” questioned Hamfast. “I can sit with ye a while if yeh need more soothin',”

“I think I'll be fine, thank you. I'll just have to save that needlework for another day,” responded Bella.

“Alrigh', I'll just be in yer window boxes if ye change your mind.”

Little Bilbo recalled all this and wondered at that consequence for breaking even a light bond.

“What are the other kinds of bonds momma?”

“The next most common one is what we call a bond of choice. A bond of convenience can be formed between any sentinel and guide; a bond of choice can only be formed between those whose gifts are well matched.”

“Well matched?”

“Yes, that means it's easy for them to work together. Think of it as a meal: you could eat frosting on top of kidney pie, and it will keep you from starving, but it's not going to taste very good together is it? Kidney pie tastes much better with garden peas and Da's chips. Sometimes gifted people find that someone else's gifts are the garden peas to their kidney pie. They may then chose to form a bond of choice. Those in a bond of choice are even less likely to experience a zone or a swoon, and usually find that their gifts work better. A sentinel in a bond of choice might be able to see further or lift more weight, while a guide could be able to block out more surrounding emotions or project more nuanced feelings.”

Tiny Bilbo didn't know what nuanced meant, but he had more a more important question to ask: “So what happens if you break a bond of choice with bad feelings?”

“Just like with a bond of convenience, only worse. More zoning, more sadness, there are likely to be physical ills too. But this is very uncommon, most of those in a bond of choice remain so because it simply feels good to have well-matched gifts. The bond makes it easier to understand each other, too."

Bilbo knew there was one more mysterious type of bond, because he had heard his cousin Adalgrim talking about it. “What about true bonds?” he eagerly asked his all-knowing mother.

“Ah, those are very, very rare. Sometimes, only very occasionally you see, a gifted person finds another gifted person whose talents match perfectly with their own. It's not like two foods that go well together, but rather more like being two parts of the same dish. Kidney pie goes well with peas and chips, but kidney pie isn't kidney pie at all with only kidney or crust. When you put those two things together it makes a new whole; something more than what they could each be separately. A true bond between those whose talents are a true match is something very special indeed, and it lasts a lifetime. But you _must_ remember: even a true bond only occurs if you make the choice to have it. No one can force you into any kind of bond, and it is not a decision to make lightly. You are choosing to bind your mind and a part of your soul to another person. It's a heavy responsibility, and one that can only be taken on with conscious consent.”

So Bilbo and Thorin may be a true match in their gifts, but he still had a choice. He knew that if he really wanted to, he could get up and walk away right now and never see the damn sentinel again. He would never have to worry about sharing his mind, soul, or past with someone else. He could go back to his uncomplicated and solitary life. So why did that sound so awful?

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Bilbo was too unsettled to sleep that night, and it's a good thing too. He became aware of the uneasiness of the sentinels before they were aware of it themselves, asleep as they were. He first noticed Thorin's head twitching back and forth in his sleep and the fear slipping into his dreams. Then Bilbo noticed Dwalin and Bifur were in the same predicament, before Kíli shot upright out of a dead sleep to whisper-

“ _Goblins._ ”

Bilbo let out a yell that belied his size, and everyone woke up just in time for the floor beneath them to open up and swallow them down. They slid through a great tunnel, bashing from side to side before collapsing into a pile and being set upon by a horde of nasty goblins. They had indeed made their camp right on the doorstep of the Misty Mountain goblin tunnels. It's not such a slim chance as it sounds: the tunnels of the Misty Mountain goblins are long and deep with many entrances and exits, all the easier for goblins to attack unsuspecting travelers for some thievery and a bone crunching meal. The fourteen company members began to be pushed and grabbed and pinched and herded down a narrow path. It was just _fourteen_ of them; Bilbo's yell had woken up Gandalf with just enough time for him to escape their clutches. However, he was nowhere to be seen now.

The crush of goblins moving deeper into the tunnels was chaotic.  There were too many even for the strength of the sentinels, who would have had trouble focusing anyway because of the horrid assault on the rest of their senses. The sights, sounds and smells of any goblin dwelling are truly deplorable. The dwarves had no choice but to keep moving where the goblins were forcing them. Bilbo could not see where they were going, and in fact spent more time being pushed over hard enough to see through legs than anything else. One particularly rough shove sent him right over onto his hands and knees, where he stayed as the horde moved past him. He kept his head down, hoping he wouldn't be stomped to pieces, until it was quiet. He looked up and saw that the smelly group of goblins had carried on right down the crooked path without noticing he was gone. Bilbo looked around before getting to his feet.

 _Well,_ he thought to himself, _I suppose I need to do something about getting us all free._ He unsheathed his little sword (the same one he had never asked anyone to teach him to use) and saw that it was glowing blue. A 'handy warning bell' indeed, but apparently only if you had your sword unsheathed at all times. And now it only made him more likely to be noticed! Still, Bilbo gathered his courage and silently made to follow his friends.

Before he made it more than a few steps, he heard a nasty cackle to his left, and cast out his other senses to look for whatever had made it. What he felt disgusted him; it was a greasy, greedy kind of hunger. It reminded him of a rancid tin of herring packed in oil that he had found once, and Bilbo had to stop to prevent himself from heaving. During that lost second of advantage, a goblin jumped out from behind a rock and swung a blade at the tiny guide. Bilbo managed to get his sword up to block the attack, but he was on the defensive now. He stepped backwards while trying to keep his sword between himself and the goblin's blade, and tripped. The goblin immediately launched on top of him, and Bilbo, desperate, rolled them both over trying to get the upper hand. They rolled over once, twice, and then off a cliff.

They landed, and Bilbo didn't know it yet, because he was currently unconscious, but he was terribly lucky. He had landed in the middle of some very springy mushrooms in a dark, deep portion of the goblin tunnels, while the goblin who attacked him had landed a few meters away on hard stone. As he lay knocked out, several levels above him the dwarves were being brought before the Great Goblin.

 

Goblins, as a rule, are disgusting creatures. Dirty, smelly, and screechy are generally the words used to describe them. The Great Goblin was the most disgusting of all. He had a huge head and a gigantic wagging nose. He was missing more teeth than not, and the ones he had left looked as if they would rot away any minute.

“Who are these miserable persons?” sneered the Great Nauseating Goblin.

Thorin stepped forward. “I am Thorin son of Thráin son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain. We are on a journey to visit our relatives who live on the east side of these mountains.”

“He is a liar!” said one of the horde who had descended on them at the first. “Look what he carries!”

The Great Goblin let out an awful howl of rage upon seeing the sword being presented to him. “I know this blade! Orcrist! Biter! Goblin-cleaver!” he shouted “Murderers and elf-friends! Slash them! Beat them! Bite them! Gnash them! Bring the bone crusher!” The beastly goblin was so angry he rushed himself toward Thorin, when without warning there was a flash of light, and a great force knocked everyone off their feet. In the quiet that followed, a voice called out.

“Take up arms. FIGHT! And follow me!”

The dwarves heard the wizard's voice and rallied. They knocked the stunned goblins away from their weapons and began stabbing and slashing their way to Gandalf. As they reached him, he said “There are too many! We must reach daylight outside the mountain if we are to be safe. Run!” And they began to fight their way out.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Down below, nearly smothered in fungus, Bilbo began to awake. He was thoroughly confused at first, not remembering taking a nap in Farmer Maggot's fields, and wouldn't he be cross if he found Bilbo here? He flowed out his empathy in an attempt to get a better hold on his situation, and gagged as he was doused in that cold greasy hunger once more. Only this time, someone else was there too. Someone sharper, but somehow messy. As if everything this person had once been was now tangled up, knotted, and shriveled. Then the guide heard a voice.

“Bless us my preciousssss! Didn't even have to go hunting for this one did we? But it's all skin and bones these goblinses, _gollum, gollum!”_

Bilbo moved one of the mushrooms ever so slightly to the side and looked out. There was the goblin who had attacked him, possibly starting to rouse himself, and another creature. It was small and crouched over on all fours. It had large pale eyes, and thin clever fingers. Bilbo, who was curious by nature, very carefully reached out his empathy a little closer to the creature, only to yank it back.

Past the surface tangle of this creature was... nothing. He was empty. Like a ball of yarn that's been pulled from the middle and then chewed upon by a cat. It was a thoroughly disturbing feeling.

The creature began to drag away the goblin, when the goblin suddenly woke up and began thrashing. The empty thing scrambled for a rock and bashed it into the goblin's head over and over again, until he stopped moving. Bilbo looked on, horrified, as spots of blood covered the walls of the tunnel.

 _“Gollum!”_ The creature made that hacking noise in his throat again, and finally dragged the goblin down the tunnel. Bilbo stuck his head out of his fungus nest when he couldn’t hear movement anymore. He looked around and found his little sword had landed by his feet and was no longer glowing. Bilbo supposed that meant that the chillingly empty creature wasn't a goblin, at any rate. He quickly picked it up and held to it fast. Cautiously, he stepped out into the tunnel and mutely debated which direction to go. Towards the creature, who might possibly lead Bilbo to an exit? Or away from the creature, which was what every instinct was screaming at him to do but could very well only be leading him deeper into the mountain?

 _Towards the creature, then,_ he resigned and braced himself . As he crept along, he stepped on something cold and hard. Hoping very much that it wasn't an old goblin tooth, Bilbo looked down and saw a gold ring. He picked it up, thinking how odd it was to find something so beautiful in a place like this, when he heard a high pitched screech and another hacking cough down the tunnel. Without thinking about it, Bilbo dropped the ring into his pocket and stealthily continued down the tunnel.

The tunnel ended in an underground lake. Bilbo ducked behind a rock and peered out. He saw the gollum creature crouched over the dead goblin on a rocky island in the middle of the lake. Suddenly it's head whipped up, and Bilbo could see the reflection of it's two pale eyes staring straight at him. The hobbit jerked his head back, hoping beyond reason that the empty thing hadn't seen him.

Gollum _had_ seen him, of course. The creature crept back to the little boat that had carried him to his island, and with the practice of endless years he silently paddled back to where he saw the face on the shore.

Bilbo took a deep breath and peeked back around the rock after a few minutes, only to see the crouched person was gone. He looked around with his eyes before unwillingly casting around with his empathy. He found the tangled mess right above him.

“AAH!” Bilbo yelped as he leaped away and looked back at the top of the rock he'd been hiding behind. Gollum jumped down from where he had been perched and said “Bless us and splash us, my preciousssss! I guess it's a choice feast; at least a tasty morsel it'd make us, _gollum!”_ The crouched thing slunk closer before Bilbo swung the tip of his sword up to his chest. The hollowed soul looked offended that Bilbo wasn't going to just allow himself to be eaten.

The hobbit himself had just decided that this creature was definitely not going to be his ticket out of here, and that now would be a good time for it to go to sleep. Bilbo pushed a heavy tiredness in Gollum's direction, only to have it swallowed up by the great well that seemed to inhabit him. The Gollum creature didn't even blink. Bilbo tried again, this time with a free floating weightlessness that sometimes put young fauntlings to sleep, but the same thing happened. The creature was completely unaffected. Bilbo felt a soul deep wrongness every time his gifts came near this thing, and he was afraid.

“What isss he, precious?” whispered Gollum, who was completely unaware of Bilbo's failures.

“I-I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins. I have lost the dwarves and I have lost the wizard, and I don't know where I am,” answered the guide, still quite wrong footed and unsettled by the emptiness in front of him. “I don't have time to play games, I just want to know the way out.”

“Games!” exclaimed Gollum. “We loves games! Does it play riddles?

 

_What has roots as nobody sees,_

_Is taller than trees,_

_Up, up it goes,_

_And yet never grows?”_

 

“...A mountain, I suppose. Look, I don't want to have to use this blade,” and he really didn't, because he had no idea how other than 'the sharp parts go in the enemy', “but if you'll just show me the way out then I won't.”

“It must have a competition with us, my preciouss! If precious asks, and it doesn't answer, we eats it, my precious. If it asks us, and we doesn't answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it the way out, yes!”

“Alright, yes,” said Bilbo, who could only imagine more violent ends to this conversation.

So the riddle game began. Bilbo started with one about thirty white horses, and Gollum responded with one about wind, and so on and so forth. They were actually quite well matched in the game, because they both spent their time thinking about things that were so foreign to the other. The longer the game went, the hungrier Gollum got. He had never gotten his teeth into the goblin with the bashed in head, and this Bagginses looked as if it would have a lot more meat. Finally he got fed up.

“It's got one more question, my precious, yes yesss. Just one more to guess.”

Bilbo was frantic at this point, trying to think of a stumping riddle. His sweaty hands gripped his little sword, he pinched himself, he even stuck his hand in his pocket while trying to jumpstart his mind. His fingers found the ring he had picked up earlier.

“What have I got in my pocket?” He wondered aloud.

“Not fair, not fair!” Gollum hissed. “Not a real riddle, to ask us what in it's pocketses!”

Bilbo realized what had happened, and having nothing better to ask, decided to stick with it. “What have I got in my pocket?” He said again.

Gollum hissed “Ssss it must give us three guesses, my precious, three!”

“Very well,” answered Bilbo, who was fully aware that rules could go hang themselves when you were playing a game for your life in the dark with a creature who seemed to be made of darkness itself.

“Handses!”

“Wrong! Guess again,” said Bilbo, who had luckily just removed his hand from his pocket.

Gollum tittered and hacked, before saying “Knife!”

“Wrong again, last guess.”

“String, or nothing!”

“That's two guesses, and they're both wrong. Time to keep your promise, you must show me the way!”

“What has it got in it's pocketses?? It must tell us!”

“Never you mind,” said Bilbo. “A promise is a promise.”

Gollum was very cross and hungry now, but still had an eye on Bilbo's sword, so he did not attack. Not immediately.

“It must wait, yes it must. We can't go up the tunnels so hasty. We must go and get some things first, yes, things to help us.”

“If you must!” said Bilbo, relieved to think of Gollum being farther away. Bilbo thought perhaps the creature was using this as an excuse to run away and not show him the way out. What Gollum really wanted was to fetch the very gold ring currently sitting in Bilbo's pocket.

The hollow, hacking soul scurried back to his boat to reach his island. Bilbo finally relaxed his sword as he considered what to do next. He was fairly sure that he had just seen the last of his riddle opponent, and he turned his mind to finding his way out of the tunnels. Suddenly there was a keening, pained screech.

“It's _lost!_ My _precious_ is lost!! Where is it, _where is it??”_

Where Bilbo had previously felt only a tangle of surface emotions and emptiness, there was now fury. It was radiating from the island. Bilbo didn't know what the creature had lost, but he knew better than to remain near the lake where the source of that anger might reach him. The hobbit turned and ran back up the tunnel he had followed down.

“What has it got in it's pocketssss? **_WHAT?”_ ** Bilbo could hear the creature splashing out of his boat and onto the shore. Bilbo pushed himself faster, but he was no sentinel and these tunnels were unfamiliar to him. Gollum was gaining on him quickly. Bilbo reached back into his pocket, desperate for something more familiar to use as a weapon than his sword, when he tripped. As he fell, the ring slipped onto his finger. He scrambled back just in time to see Gollum right behind him, eyes locked in front. Bilbo rolled out of the way, trying to avoid those nasty grasping fingers, when the creature scurried past him.

          Bilbo didn't understand. He had seen those eyes in the darkness; how could Gollum have missed him? Then Bilbo noticed something else: he felt deafened, but not in hearing. It was as if his gifts had been wrapped in cotton and put away. He could no longer sense the ambient feelings around him. However, he was too worried about his survival to think too deeply on it at the moment, so he began to silently follow the creature.

 

Outside the mountain, Thorin's head snapped up.

 

The dwarves plus one wizard had made it out of the goblin tunnels. There had been a great deal of stabbing and goblin blood, and even more running, but with a bit of magical help from Gandalf and a great deal of dwarvish stubbornness, they had made it into the safety of the sunlight. The members of the company were currently leaning over and gasping for breath while thanking Mahal for their survival.

Suddenly panicked for no reason he could ascertain, as he had remained clear headed during the entire chase, he did a head count. “...12, 13, 14... Where is the hobbit? Where is the guide??” he yelled. Gandalf's sharp gaze met Thorin's.

“Have you lost my burglar, Thorin Oakenshield?” he thundered.


	14. Chapter 14

Inside the mountain, Bilbo could see the exit. He was still hidden behind Gollum, who was hidden behind a rock, but Bilbo could see it nonetheless. Gollum had parked himself and was waiting “by the back door for that nasty Bagginses, nasty thieving little Bagginses, took my precious birthday present, yes.”

Bilbo had more than a sneaking suspicion by now that the ring he was wearing had somehow made him invisible. He didn't want to question his luck at finding such a remarkable object at such an important moment, but he planned to make good use of it. He reared himself back before running and leaping over the Gollum creature, higher and farther than this hobbit had ever leaped before, before landing on the other side and darting through the exit.

 

Still more than a little afraid for his circumstances, and that he might be followed yet, Bilbo kept the ring on as he wandered. He hoped beyond hope that the company had managed to escape. It would be dark again soon, what was he to do? Then he heard voices; not goblin voices, but familiar ones.

“Confounded dwarves! Who was the last to see him?” bellowed Gandalf. Bilbo could have cried with relief, if he did such things.

Nori piped up, “I think I saw him slip away before we were brought to the Great Hideous Goblin.”

“We must go back and get him!” declared Kíli, with Fíli nodding behind him.

Thorin looked very troubled. He knew they could not reenter the goblin tunnels and reasonably expect to live.

“We don't know for sure that he's even in the tunnels,” he said. “He most likely saw the chance to return to his soft bed and comforts of home, and took it. He is probably long gone by now.”

Thorin couldn't bring himself to think the little guide was dead. His soul rebelled at the idea. The burglar had been clever and resourceful; perhaps he would make it home to safety.

Bilbo, with his gifts suppressed as they were, did not understand the comfort that the sentinel was trying to offer to himself and the company. All he heard from Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, was him once again saying that Bilbo had no place on this quest, and Bilbo decided he had had quite enough of that, thank you.

Bilbo slipped off the ring, stepped into the middle of the dwarves and said “No I'm not.”

“Oh, Bilbo! Never have I been so glad to see anyone in my life!” gusted Gandalf, who truly did look very relieved. “How did you escape?”

“There was an empty creature, and this ring, and- you know what? It's a story that I'm sure will sound much better farther from the goblin tunnels. The point is I'm back now and you, Mr. Oakenshield, can stop saying I should run off at the next chance. I do miss my soft bed and the comforts of home, and that's exactly why I'll stay on this quest. Because you don't have one; a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can.”

The moment Bilbo had reappeared, Thorin felt the burglar's presence tickling at his mind again. The sentinel hadn’t even realized it was missing until it returned, but the staggering amount of relief he felt at it’s arrival surprised him. Before he could say anything, a howl ripped through the air.

“Wargs!” yelped Bofur.

“Out of the frying pan...” sighed Thorin.

“...and into the fire,” finished Gandalf. “RUN!”

They dashed around boulders and twisted through brush with the threat of wargs at their heels. However, it became obvious that wargs weren't the only thing chasing them: orcs were mounted on the beasts. Their pursuers soon had them all treed, and despite Gandalf using his wizardry to provide them with flaming pinecones to throw at the wargs, it was clear that escape was becoming impossible. The tree the company was perched in began to tip over, crashing down and leaving several of the dwarves dangling for their lives over a cliff.

A pale orc missing half an arm came forward on a white warg. Bilbo felt a great pulse of stunned shock, and heard Thorin whisper “No.”

The pale orc lifted his scarred mouth in a hateful smile. “All the strength of a famed sentinel, and it is still not enough to protect even the handful of your people still willing to follow you, Thorin son of Thráin. At least your father had the faith of his people before I killed him.”

Bilbo closed his eyes as he felt Thorin snap.

“Thorin, Thorin-” Bilbo tried to claim his attention, but the sentinel was already running down the tree at the enemy, drawing his sword. He let out a battle cry as he ran through the flames, sword aloft. The pale orc spurred the white warg forward, nearly galloping towards the dwarf. As they connected, Thorin swung his sword with the precision that only a sentinel of his caliber possesses, but it was blocked by the orc's mace, and Thorin was run over by the warg. Just as he managed to get back up, the pale orc turned around and gave a crushing blow to Thorin's chest. Bilbo gasped, and was unable to breathe for a few moments.

Thorin's hand searched for his blade, but it was just out of reach. The pale orc laughed, and casually said to his lieutenant, “Bring me his head.”

The guide in Bilbo jerked at this, and burst into action. Before he knew what he was doing, Bilbo was following Thorin's footsteps down the tree and drawing his own sword. He had to protect his sentinel. The hobbit tackled the orc that was bringing its blade to Thorin's throat, and Bilbo felt his sentinel's fear spike as he witnessed it. With a dexterity of gifts that he'd never experienced before, Bilbo gently sent Thorin to sleep while simultaneously pushing a paralyzing fear into the orc he had tackled. The orc froze long enough for Bilbo to sink his sword into him once, twice, three times. As he felt the wretched soul rip away from the body beneath his and saw the blood on his hands, a part of Bilbo’s mind tried to tug him into memories of his first sentinel. He ruthlessly forced his concentration back into the moment, knowing he was burning through his gifts fast and not wanting to waste a second of it.

The pale orc hissed with anger. “Kill him,” he ordered.

Bilbo brought up his sword up and swung it wildly at the approaching orcs. Suddenly, great yells came from the felled tree, and the rest of the dwarves attacked. Dwalin swung his warhammer and crushed a wargs head; Kíli stood high with his bow, firing arrows nearly faster than could be seen. Everyone took on an opponent, and Bilbo found himself still the focus of the pale orc's attention. The white warg slowly approached as the pale orc snarled. Bilbo gave a forceful push of lethargy towards his enemy, hoping to weaken him. The orc paused and slumped forward a bit, shaking his head. Then Bilbo pulsed a wave of high strung panic in the same direction, followed immediately by another sheet of stupor, trying to keep him off balance. The orc roared in confusion, swinging up his blade, when a high pitched screech came from above. They both looked up in time to see a giant eagle swoop down and pick up two wargs before tossing them off the cliff. Bilbo watched in amazement as more eagles came, some picking off orcs and wargs, others fanning the flames towards the enemy. His amazement lasted precisely as long as it took for one of the eagles to fly in his direction.

“Oh no. Nonono-” but regardless of anything he said, the eagle scooped him up in it's claws before flinging him onto the back of another great bird. Each company member found themselves clutched in talons or holding onto the back of an eagle, being lifted away from the fire on the cliff.

“Thorin!” Bilbo called as he gripped feathers. He frantically flung out his empathy with less grace than he'd ever used in his life. He found Thorin's familiar too-detailed signature to his right, and when Bilbo looked over he saw the lifeless looking body clutched in another eagle's claws. Bilbo did a quick search around him, adding up the company members by counting off fearful and spent emotions around him, all while never taking his eyes off of the sentinel.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

They flew for what felt like forever. If Bilbo had been in any other state, he might have enjoyed the beautiful scenery from above, but as it was, he could do nothing but keep his focus trained on Thorin. Near dawn the eagles began circling a tall outcropping of rock with a great flat space. The eagle to Bilbo's right released Thorin more gently than the guide would have thought possible. Gandalf was the next to be set down, before Bilbo and then the others were given the opportunity to hop down as well.

Gandalf hurried to lean over Thorin with his staff, murmuring and hovering a hand over Thorin’s face and chest. The sentinel's eyes fluttered before opening and finding the wizard.

“The halfling?” he whispered.

Gandalf smiled with relief and said “It's alright, Bilbo is here. He's quite safe.”

Thorin began to struggle to get up, so Dwalin and Kíli both grabbed an arm to assist. Bilbo wanted very much to go to him so he could personally be sure of his safety, but he was unsure. He had experienced a rather violent surge of possessiveness when Thorin had been attacked, but he was suddenly reminded that he had no actual claim on him. In fact, up until now Bilbo had done his best to deny any desire for such a thing, just as Thorin had repeatedly made his ill opinion of Bilbo's talent clear.

Thorin managed to get on his feet and looked directly at Bilbo.

_“You.”_

Bilbo's uncertainty turned to lead in his stomach.

“What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say you would not survive in the wild? That had no place among us?”

Bilbo felt the lead in his stomach drop to his toes.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

Before he knew what was happening, Thorin dragged Bilbo into a hug. Warmth enveloped him from the sentinel who was so much taller and broader than himself. Then Thorin's head shifted and their cheeks were pressed together.

Bilbo had never experienced anything like it. At the instant of physical contact, the world seemed to align and straighten into crispness. Bilbo's poor wearied soul rejoiced, and the used up energy of his gifts were immediately refreshed. The hug continued, and Bilbo could feel the wonder from himself reflected in Thorin, the feeling reverberating between the two of them until it seemed to come into harmony as a single sound.

Any ashy idea Bilbo may have had left about refraining from a bond with Thorin blew away. The second his choice was made, he felt a light bond slip into place, as if it had been impatiently waiting on Bilbo all along.

Thorin finally pulled back, only to rest his forehead against Bilbo's. “Your talents are a force to be reckoned with, my own true match. I regret ever doubting you, and I will spend the rest of my days making amends.”

Bilbo looked around nervously at this grand proclamation, wondering what the others would think of Thorin calling him his 'own true match'. To his surprise, all he saw were a few smiles and chuckles. Balin caught his eye with a twinkle, and said “Everyone already knows, laddie. You two are as true a match in gifts as I've seen. I'm frankly impressed with how long you were able to fight it. It must have taken a great strength of will.”

Bilbo flushed at that before Óin interjected “-As well as an impressive amount of stupidity! Thorin, I’m sure the wizard did something with his magical nonsense, and I know a bond will help speed recovery, but I still need to take a look at your injuries before we try to climb down from this great rock.”

Óin gave Thorin a brief look over to be sure that he wasn't in any immediate danger, and that he would be able to get down with a little assistance. They began the climb down, going slowly as Thorin wasn't the only one who was injured. Everyone had sustained scrapes and bruises during one fight or the other, some worse and some better. It was early afternoon when they reached the bottom, but there was a river and everyone agreed that they should set up what little camp they could.

They had managed to save a single bag of food and cooking supplies, and about half a pack of medicine and bandages. All the bed rolls and clothes and of course the ponies were lost in the goblin tunnels. Bofur and Glóin got a fire started while Bombur piled together ingredients and asked Kíli and Fíli if they could see about catching any nearby game. Dori and Balin were fussing over a few scrapes Ori had gained, while Dwalin and Nori were fussing over each other. The words were quiet and gruff, but it was fussing all the same. Gandalf had gone to fetch some water from the river, and Bifur was sitting while staring at nothing in particular. Bilbo was hovering nervously while Óin made a more thorough inspection of Thorin's wounds. The little burglar felt it was entirely inappropriate for him to be so close while Thorin was shirtless and in pain, but he couldn't seem to make himself leave. After a close look, Óin pulled a tub of ointment and a roll of stiff bandages from the precious pack they had managed to save, and beckoned Bilbo closer.

“Here,” he placed the objects in Bilbo's hands. “Smooth this salve over all the bruises and cuts, and make sure it's particularly generous over his chest. Then firmly, but not too tightly, wrap this bandage around to support his ribs.”

“Wha- I don't actually- Shouldn't you be doing this?” Bilbo fluttered.

“I need to be with Bifur. We have a bond of convenience for this trip and he's needing guidance right now. 'Sides, physical contact won't do you two anything but good. It'll speed his recovery, soothe your minds and strengthen your bond. Get to it, lad,” and he walked away.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, who gave him a tentative smile, which turned into a grimace as his chest gave a particular throb. Bilbo hurried to open the tin of salve and scoop some on his fingers. Ever so carefully, he began to work it over Thorin's skin. He lifted a light daze over his sentinel, hoping to relieve some of the pain as he worked.

“Thank you,” Thorin murmured. “Not just for attending to me. Thank you for consenting to a bond. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for being a marvelously talented guide. Thank you for... you know, I always did have loose lips after a visit from a pain relief empath.”

Bilbo chuckled.

“I am sincere though. You can feel that, can't you?” implored the sentinel.

“I can,” said Bilbo as he moved around to Thorin's back. He was trying his best to be gentle and not allow his hands to linger, but the touch of his skin simply felt good. It was comforting to his mind, soul, and body. He finished with the salve and picked up the bandages.

“I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to lift some of that pain relief now. I need you to tell me if I'm wrapping these too tight, okay?”

Thorin nodded his understanding.

Bilbo rolled back his empathy and worked quickly, getting the bandages where they would do the most good. He could feel the strain of the pain from Thorin, and the moment he was done, he replaced the cloud of haziness around him.

Óin called over from where he sat with Bifur. “You both need to rest now. Go take a nap and keep some skin contact, we'll wake you when a meal is ready.”

Bilbo snorted at being told to nap like some fauntling, but reasoned that Thorin could definitely use sleep. The burglar guided the prince over to a tree, against which he leaned as he sat. He patted the ground next to him, thinking that perhaps resting shoulder to shoulder would be good. He was therefore very surprised when Thorin lay down his head in Bilbo's lap and smiled beatifically up at him.

 _Hm,_ thought Bilbo. Perhaps he was clouding Thorin's thoughts a little too much. Before he could do anything about it, though, Thorin had grabbed his hand, brought it to his mouth for a kiss, and then laid their joined hands on his stomach and closed his eyes. Bilbo prodded at his mind and found him already asleep.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

As Bilbo rested, he looked around. Kíli and Fíli had returned with two rabbits that Kíli was now skinning. Fíli stood behind him with a hand beneath Kíli’s hair, resting on his neck. Curious, Bilbo searched out Balin and Dori and saw that they were holding hands. Dwalin and Nori had their boots off to repair some damage done to the leather, and their feet were tangled together. Even Óin and Bifur had their heads leaning together as the healer quietly spoke to the dwarf.

Bilbo wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. He had always just assumed that dwarves were a very physical bunch and didn’t hold any respect for personal space. Instead, he realized, they were consistently shoring up their bonds. Growing up in the Shire, there had been very few people to talk about things pertaining to the gifted. His mother had been his main source of information, and her only bond had been a light one with Mr. Gamgee. The only time they touched was when one of them needed to be lifted from a zone or a swoon. Bilbo realized he knew very little about having and maintaining a bond.

Feeling it necessary, he thought back to his first and only bond before today. His search for anything to distract from the grief of his mother’s death had led him to a bar in Bree. Donyc had watched Bilbo, half drunk, switch around the weapons and braid together the hair of 3 dwarves. Donyc laughed along with everyone else when the dwarves tried to stand to leave, but he was the only one who knew the little hobbit had been responsible. He introduced himself and sat down to chat. That first night Bilbo had found it very easy to talk with the sentinel. This man didn't look at him with pity for his mother's death or disgust for having been born a guide, the way a hobbit would. Bilbo thought he could get along very well with Donyc indeed.

They started meeting up for drinks every time Bilbo went to Bree, which became often. Over time, Bilbo learned that Donyc's mother was ill, as Bella had been, and that he was having trouble paying the bills of the healer. The very fact that Men had such a system where only those with money could be healed was appalling to the hobbit.

“-And the jeweler sits in his mansion, cozy as can be in his riches! A single one of his rings would be enough to pay the healer for weeks! He has them by the fistful, and my mother lay in pain,” Donyc had stormed.

Bilbo had been simmering all night. The unfairness of the world cut at him. His mother was dead, and his friend's would soon be too unless something was done. The jeweler could spare the help; the jeweler _should_ spare the help.

“Let's go take it. Let's go get one of the jeweler's rings to pay the healer. Your mother deserves care. Let's go.”

Donyc looked down into Bilbo's eyes and grinned.

“Let's go.”

Before they broke into the jewelers house, Donyc told Bilbo that they should make a bond of convenience. Their gifts worked well together, and it would be easier to tell if the other was in trouble that way. Bilbo had been considering asking his friend for a light bond anyway, so he agreed and it slipped into place.

 

That was how it had started.

 

After the ring, Donyc said the healer raised his prices, so they stole from the money lender, and then other rich homes in the town. It felt good to have a partner, someone who understood him and who he thought he understood in return. It felt good to use his natural skills as a guide and a burglar to help someone who was such a good friend.

When Bilbo had inevitably been unable to hold back the grief of his mother’s death anymore, Donyc had been the one to witness it. He had seemed very unsettled at first, almost angry, to be experiencing grief that wasn’t his own through the bond. But after seeing how vulnerable Bilbo was, Donyc had stayed and comforted him. He wasn’t going anywhere, he had said. They were bond partners now, and who could they rely on but each other?

Bilbo started going home to his father less often. The burglaries continued. With every one, their bond strengthened. It was no longer a light bond of convenience, but something heavier; something that became more difficult to carry. Then Donyc’s mother kicked him out.

“Can you believe it!” he had raged. “I save her life and this is how she repays me? That bitch doesn't deserve the health she's regained!”

Bilbo winced at the words his friend ranted. He was just upset, he didn't really mean it. Bilbo had gently prodded at his bond partner's feelings, looking for some regret he might see for the horrible things he was spewing. Before he found any, Donyc came close to Bilbo's face.

“You can't leave, Bilbo. You're the only person I have now; the only one I trust. I'm so- I'm so upset. If I don't have you here I'm sure I'll slip into a zone, a deep one.” This wasn't entirely unlikely. Donyc did feel unbalanced, and Bilbo didn't want him to fall and not be around to help. He nodded, and the next time he returned to Hobbiton was months later.

 

The first time Bilbo knew he was in trouble was when a caravan of dwarves from the blue mountains was passing through. Donyc beckoned Bilbo to a dark corner of the bar and said “We're going to steal a few of their money bags.”

“No, Donyc,” Bilbo was firm. “If you need money, I'll lend you some, we're not going to steal from these hard working people.”

Donyc scoffed. “They're dwarves! They're all loaded with gold and gems, ask anyone. Look, I'm tired of sleeping in that hole of an inn; I want to find a better place to live. I don't want to borrow from you because you'll have to go home to get it. We're taking the money.”

“Donyc, no-”

Bilbo took in a sharp breath as he felt a cruel twist of the bond connecting them. It _hurt._ The sentinel’s eyes were dark as he looked down at the hobbit.

“You have to help me. You’re my bond partner. You'll help me do this or I'll do it by myself while they're sleeping. You know I've never been the quietest or had the best control of my strength...I hate to think of what could happen when I'm slipping a bag out from underneath a pillow.”

Bilbo was shocked at the implied threat, but he could feel that Donyc meant it. He would steal from these dwarves, and if they woke up to find him then he would hurt them. It was a well of darkness to him that Bilbo had never seen before. Later, he would wonder if that was because it hadn't been there before, or if it was because Donyc had somehow hidden it from him, or if Bilbo had willfully ignored it.

Bilbo had nodded numbly, and that night for the first time he felt like an actual burglar.

 

Nothing he had learned about bonds after that would bear thinking about. No, his only personal experience with a bond had been a wretched mistake, and he realized that he had no idea how to make this endeavor with Thorin succeed. Oh well, it wasn’t as if Thorin would still want him after they reclaimed Erebor, after all. The idea of true bond was enticing, but no doubt once he had a kingdom to rule over then he would want a dwarf guide who actually knew what they were doing. Until then he would just have to take his cues from the dwarves, who have more experience with this kind of thing anyway.

Having a plan in mind, he squeezed Thorin’s hand a little tighter and dozed off.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Glóin woke them up a few hours later for dinner. Thorin lifted his head from Bilbo’s lap, gingerly compensating for his injuries. The pain relief from Bilbo had slipped away during their nap, and he felt much more clear headed now, if still quite tender. He watched the burglar rubbing his eyes and tried to keep a grin off his face. His guide was just so cute. Thorin had a brief impulse to lean forward and kiss his forehead, but before he could act on it, Bilbo looked up at him a bit awkwardly and clapped him on the arm before getting up to go eat.

Thorin didn’t get up. That pat on the arm had definitely not been the act of someone smitten. A memory cut across Thorin’s mind; Bilbo mentioning that his mother had not been married to her bonded. Her guide had just been a neighbor. Thorin felt a cold wash through his stomach. Was that how all bonds worked in the shire? For dwarves, anything more than a bond of convenience usually had a romantic component. It wasn’t demanded, it was just a natural consequence of sharing between passionate souls. A few of those with a bond of choice were platonic, but most were not, and Thorin couldn’t think of a single true bond that wasn’t romantic in nature.

His mind racing, Thorin felt along his brand new bond with Bilbo. It was very slight, really just barely a bond of convenience. Bilbo was still holding back. _Of course,_ Thorin thought. The sentinel and guide had spent the entire journey thus far getting into spats; Thorin had nothing to recommend him.  Bilbo’s only experience having a bond was with a man who had tried to use him. Bilbo was probably too busy waiting for the other shoe to drop to consider anything else. Thorin felt a surge of roiling anger towards whoever had treated his guide so poorly.

Bilbo looked up at his sentinel with a concerned expression. He brought back a bowl of stew as Thorin calmed himself with the knowledge that Bilbo was _here_ now, where Thorin could keep him safe.

The burglar handed the prince a bowl and tilted his head. “You’re… angry? Or just uncomfortable? Oh, dear, you’re probably hurting pretty badly, aren’t you?” tittered Bilbo. “I apologize, I should be-”

“Peace, burglar,” Thorin tried to smile. “I have had much worse. Sit with me. Just having the presence of a bond will help me to heal.”

Bilbo subtly lifted some of the pain from Thorin anyway, and sat down to eat his dinner. Thorin resolved to do his best to keep his feelings from Bilbo. He didn’t want to overwhelm him before their bond had even had a real chance. Thorin had to prove he was worth trusting. And if Bilbo never wanted to connect in the way that Thorin did; well, he would find a way for it to be enough.

“Bilbo, yeh never did tell us how you escaped,” said Bofur as he plopped down a few feet away.

“Yes, what was it about an empty creature?” inquired Gandalf.

“Oh, yes,” Bilbo shuddered in remembrance and launched into a story about Gollum and the riddle game. Bilbo was quite the storyteller, and had everyone on the edge of their seats when he reached the part where the ring had slipped onto his finger.

“A ring?” asked Gandalf sharply.

“Yes, here-” Bilbo pulled it out of his pocket and held it flat in his palm.

As soon as Thorin saw it, he felt drawn to it. The shine of the gold was so beautiful, like the treasures of Erebor... or the curls of his guide.

“Put it away!” snapped Gandalf. Bilbo closed his hand around it and dropped it back into his pocket. Everyone looked at Gandalf in surprise.

“There are few magic rings in this world, Bilbo, and none of them are to be used lightly,” warned the wizard. “I don’t think you should wear it, or possibly even touch it too often.”

Bilbo shrugged. It was just a ring. “I didn’t enjoy it overmuch anyway,” he scrunched his little bulbous nose. “It muffled my guide gifts somehow. It was like being deaf in one ear, and left me feeling off balance.”

“Hm,” huffed Gandalf, who was relieved to have it out of sight. “Well I’m glad you escaped anyhow. We likely would have lost our leader had you not,” he nodded at Thorin. “But we are in quite the predicament now, aren’t we! No food, no clothes, no ponies. Luckily, I know a man near here. Well, I know _of_ a man near here. And, when I say ‘man’… in any case, if we are very careful, he may offer us shelter and help, but it will take a quick tongue and quicker thoughts, so you will all have to trust me.”

And with that cryptic statement, Gandalf pulled out a pipe from up his sleeve (goodness only knows how he didn’t lose it) and began blowing smoke rings.

That evening, they set a watch and then settled down to sleep directly on the hard ground. Thorin briefly wondered if he could get away with asking Bilbo to sleep under his coat with him for purposes of health, but decided he didn’t want to push his luck. In the end, he got something almost as good anyway.

Bilbo shuffled over, looking a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat and said “I thought it might help you sleep if we held hands during the night? We certainly don’t have to, I just thought that if your injuries wake you up, then I will already be there to ease the pain. The others,” he gestured to the 4 other bonded pairs “always seem to sleep near each other. I don’t know if it’s a dwarven thing, or a bonded thing, or possibly a marriage thing-”

“I appreciate the offer, Master Burglar. Yes, some pain relief during the night would be welcome.” Thorin most certainly did not grin, but it was a near thing.

Bilbo hesitantly lay down and held out his hand. The skin contact was like coming home to a roaring fire. It was all soothing warmth and comfort, and they both fell asleep quickly.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

The morning came, and Óin did another check of Thorin’s wounds before they set off in the direction of Gandalf’s friend.

Óin made a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “A few of these bruises are already fading to green! Some of the cuts are sealed completely too. Bilbo, your gifts must be marvelous; do you have a background in healing?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Not really. As I was coming into my gifts I was also spending a lot of time with my mother in the hospital. I picked up a few generic things about first aid and a lot about pain relief for the benefit of mother, but nothing beyond that.”

“I could make great use of talents like yours. Consider yourself apprenticed for the journey.”

“Uh-”

But Óin was already walking away. Thorin smiled wryly and said “Don’t bother trying to say no; Óin uses his selective hearing loss to his advantage. He’s tried to teach all of us the healing arts at one point or another. Nori and Fíli took to it the best, I believe, but if I recall correctly Dwalin almost accidentally cut off the toes of some poor dwarrowdam.”

Dwalin yelled across the camp “I heard that! And don’ think just ‘cause your chest is ailing that I can’t find a way to shut your mouth!” Thorin chuckled.

Bilbo didn’t think that he’d seen Thorin this relaxed the entire trip. Could this really all be because Bilbo finally consented to a bond? Was Thorin perhaps still a bit light headed from the effect of Bilbo’s pain relief? He didn’t know either way, but this version of Thorin was much easier for Bilbo to see as a true match for his own gifts.

They walked as fast as they could manage, which wasn’t very. It was hot in the valley, and the sun beat down. Between that and the injured members of the company, they rested under the trees every couple of hours. Bilbo found himself touching Thorin often during these rests, checking his distress from pain and doing his best to help him heal. Sometimes Thorin sought him out while they walked too, when his ribs particularly throbbed. Bilbo cautiously assessed their bond after every touch, every exchange of feeling. It already felt so different from last time; he couldn’t decide if that meant he was doing it wrong or doing it right.

Mid-afternoon they reached a thorn hedge with a small opening. Gandalf turned to face the group.

“These are Beorn’s lands; it is his house we are making for. Beorn is a skin changer. Sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong black haired man with huge arms and a great beard. From what I know he has no great love of dwarves, but a pure hatred of orcs. That may be enough to convince him to help us. Now, we cannot overwhelm him, so I will go first with Bilbo. The rest of you will come two at a time at my signal; except you Bombur. You had better come alone. Come along, Bilbo!”

Thorin bristled tensely at Bilbo going to meet a _bear man_ where the sentinel could not protect him, but said nothing. Bilbo assumed the feeling could be attributed to this Beorn daring to not be fond of dwarves, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before joining Gandalf. As the pair crossed through the hedge, they saw two horses look up from a distance before galloping away.

“They have gone to tell him of the arrival of strangers,” said Gandalf.

Bilbo wondered if sometimes being a bear made a person also able to speak horse? They soon reached a courtyard and heard the sounds of someone chopping wood a single whack at a time. As a gigantic, wild-looking man came into view, Bilbo could feel nerves from Gandalf.

“Ugh, here they are!” said Beorn to the horses as he leaned on his axe. “They don’t look dangerous. You can be off!” He put down his axe and came forward. “Who are you and what do you want?” he asked bluntly.

“I am Gandalf,” said the wizard.

“Never heard of him,” growled the man. “And what’s this little fellow?” he said, stooping down to frown at the hobbit with his bushy eyebrows.

“This is Mr. Baggins, a guide of the Shire. He is a hobbit of impeccable standing,” said Gandalf as Bilbo bowed. “I am a wizard. And you may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you. I think perhaps you know my good cousin Radagast who lives near the southern borders of Mirkwood?”

“Yes; not a bad fellow as wizards go. I used to see him now and again,” said Beorn thoughtfully. “Now I know who you are, or who you say you are. What do you want?”

“To tell the slightly embarrassing truth, we have lost our luggage and nearly lost our way and are in rather need of help. We had a rather bad time with goblins in the mountains.”

“Goblins?” said the giant man with slightly more interest. “What did you go near them for?”

“We did not mean to. They surprised us at night as we traveled from the west- it is a long tale.”

“Then you had better begin telling it, if it won’t take all day” Beorn sat down on his chopping block, and so Gandalf began telling their story.

“I was coming over the mountain pass with a friend or two-”

“I see only one friend, and a small one at that,” said the bear man.

“Oh, I did not want to bother you with the lot of us if you were busy. I will give a call if I may?”

“Go on, call away!”

Gandalf gave a long shrill whistle, and Thorin and Dori came into view.

“You didn’t say they were dwarves,” Beorn frowned.

“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service! Dori at your service!” said the two dwarves, with Dori bowing and Thorin inclining the best he could. Thorin then immediately went to stand next to, and possibly a little in front of, Bilbo.

“I don’t want your service, but it seems you need mine. I don’t like dwarves,” he stated baldly, “however if you are truly the sentinel prince Thorin Oakenshield then you are enemies of Azog, and that is enough. I also suspect that if you are Thorin Oakenshield, then you are not traveling with a company of merely four. I can see the game you are playing, Mr. Wizard, and I would like it to end now. Call out the rest of your companions so that I may know how many will be sleeping in my house tonight. You can finish what will no doubt be a riveting tale over dinner.”

The sentinels who were eavesdropping must have relayed the message, because walking in single file came Balin, Dwalin, Nori, Ori, Kíli, Fíli, Óin, Glóin, Bofur, Bifur, and lastly Bombur.

“You were coming over the pass with a friend or fourteen, I see! Well, everyone into the house. If you’ve been having trouble with goblins, it looks as if goblins have also been having trouble with you and that is a tale I wish to hear.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

The company tromped into the house and looked around in wonder. Dogs and sheep were waiting in the dining room. Beorn spoke to them in a strange animal language (do all animals speak the same language, then? wondered Bilbo. Could someone else learn to speak it?) and the animals hurried off to the kitchen, only to return with great jugs of milk and plates of honey cakes. As they ate, Gandalf told the tale of their troubles through the mountains. When he came to the part where they lit the wargs and orcs on fire, Beorn grinned viciously before switching to a deep frown.

“These lands are crawling with orcs. Azog the Defiler is out for your blood, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bilbo felt Thorin tense.

“What do you know of the Defiler?” Thorin asked.

“I know he has a bounty on your head, with the reward doubled if you are brought to him alive. He enslaved my people when they came down from the north. Not for work, but for sport. He caged them and tortured them slowly to death. I am the only one of my kind left.” A shadow of old pain crossed his face. The guides felt the depth of it, and some had to grip the table for a moment until it passed.“If Azog wishes you dead, Thorin Oakenshield, then I will see what I can do to ensure he does not succeed. You said you are trying to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?”

“Before Durin’s Day, yes,” agreed Gandalf. “That is why we must go through Mirkwood.”

Beorn looked disconcerted. “A darkness lies upon that forest; fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need.”

Everyone was silent at this. At the mention of the Necromancer, the wizard grew very disturbed indeed, before closing it off and trying for a smile.

“We will take the elven road; their path is still safe.”

Thorin quietly walked away from the table, his thoughts deep and troubled. Bilbo debated whether his presence would be welcome, but decided it couldn’t hurt to check. If Thorin didn’t want Bilbo around then he had never demonstrated a problem with telling him so. As he quietly walked up behind the sentinel, the guide reached out and placed a gentle empathic hand on the other mind.

“Are you alright? Is it your wounds?” Bilbo thought he felt more emotional pain than anything else, but he wanted to provide Thorin with an out if he did not want to talk about it.

“No, my guide,” Thorin sighed. “That is not it.”

The prince sat on a bench near the great fireplace in Beorn’s main living space and held out a hand. More used to the dwarven way of bonds after their journey during the day, Bilbo quickly took the hand in his own and sat down on the bench too.

Bilbo had never been very good at holding back his curiosity, so before a few quiet minutes had passed he asked, “Who is Azog? Why does he want you dead?” He felt a lance of anguish cross through Thorin and immediately felt guilty for prying. “I’m sorry, I’ve no right to ask, please excuse me,” and he focused his sight on the dirty curls on his toes.

Bilbo may not think so, but he actually had every right to ask, Thorin thought. The sentinel wanted a true bond. That meant that Bilbo needed to know all of him, including his failures and weaknesses, and what was more, Thorin wanted him to know. He felt compelled to share everything with his guide.

“What do you know about the Battle of Azanulbizar?” he started.

Bilbo considered. “Only the stories that passed around the pub. I know your father, grandfather and brother were lost in battle. They say you took up an oak branch as a shield and destroyed the orc leader, winning the battle for the dwarves. Except…” Bilbo paused, remembering. “The orc on the white warg…”

Thorin took a deep breath and said, “Azog was the orc leader.”

Bilbo gasped, “He’s not dead?”

“You saw him. He was the great pale orc that I charged.”

Bilbo felt as if he was going to be sick.

“You _charged_ the Defiler armed with nothing more than a sword and 12 dwarves at your back?”

Thorin grimaced and shook his head. “Hearing his taunts… you know, he did not swing the blade, but he was responsible for my mother’s death too.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “My parents did not have a true bond, but it was very strong. After it was broken with my father’s death, the headaches came to my mother and eventually she wasted away. As for how the filth is still alive, I do not know. His injuries were vast, but apparently his evil runs deep enough that death itself does not want him."

This reminder of the possible consequences of bonding didn’t unsettle Bilbo the way it usually did. His mind really only had room for the story Thorin was telling and the pain he was radiating.

“So he was responsible for the death of your father, grandfather, brother and mother. Dear Yavanna,” Bilbo breathed.

Here, Thorin had to brace himself. “He was only partially responsible for my brother Frerin’s death... I also hold blame.”

Bilbo stilled, and waited.

“Frerin was so young. He had just finished coming into his gifts as a guide, and we found that we worked very well together. It was nothing like what I experience with you, but we were a better match than I had previously experienced. I was stronger, faster, more precise; a better warrior when I worked with Frerin. I thought that perhaps with his assistance I would be able to end the battle sooner… he was too young. He wouldn’t have been on the battlefield were it not for me. I’m not so conceited to assume all the blame for his death, but he would almost certainly be alive had I not asked him to join me.”

The grief pierced him, joining the ache of old guilt. Bilbo could feel the bereavement threatening to overwhelm the tired sentinel, but he didn’t think it wise to try and cover the feelings. Some emotions must be experienced, otherwise they putrefy under pressure until you’ve rotted from the inside out. Instead, Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand.

“I am so sorry, Thorin.”

The prince waited for Bilbo to announce judgement of his actions so many years ago. When none came, he looked over and only saw concern on the guide’s face. His expression must have been confused, because Bilbo asked “What?”

“I’m waiting for you to decide what this means about me,” Thorin answered honestly. “Some hear the story and decide I hold enough fault for my brother’s death that I should not be trusted. He was inexperienced, and I asked him onto a battlefield. Others hear the story and decide that I must be broken with regret. They handle me like glass and cushion me with lies of how I hold no culpability for his loss.”

BIlbo puffed out his cheeks before answering.

“Well, I expect Frerin knew _something_ of battle. Isn’t it traditional for all dwarves to receive training?” Thorin nodded and Bilbo continued. “I also know enough of you to say that you never would have dragged your brother into battle against his will. Which means that though he may have been young, it was still his choice to be by his brother’s side while they battled for their people. If he was anything like you, I daresay that even if you _hadn’t_ asked he would have found a way to be in the fight anyway. As for trying to tell you that you have no fault in his death; you don’t. Placing blame on you removes the responsibility of his choice. But me telling you that is not likely to change years of your feelings on the matter. That is something that you must convince yourself.”

Thorin felt a wash of gratitude towards his little burglar, not to mention a great relief that he hadn’t thrown away his hand and broken their bond in disgust.

“You are truly a marvel, Bilbo.”

“I’m really not,” the hobbit laughed, somewhat nervously.

The others started to come into the great room then, some yawning and everyone looking satisfied after such a good meal. Beorn’s dogs followed them in, carrying pallets and blankets on which to sleep. Balin glanced at Thorin and Bilbo’s still joined hands and grinned under his beard. Óin called out “Where has my patient got to?” and clomped over to the bench where the two sat before instructing Thorin to strip off his shirt. He stated that if Bilbo was going to take notes like a good student would, he would need to ask Ori for some paper and a pen. Then without waiting for him to fetch it, he launched into a lecture. “Arnika salve, like this here, is one of the best…” So the evening was spent listening to Óin speak on the differences between arnika and agrimony, and how cabbage leaves could be used in a pinch, while the dwarves settled down around them.

After Óin had wrapped him back up and moved on to prodding at some of other’s bruises, Thorin hesitated with a blanket. Should he lay down next to Bilbo again? The pain wasn’t terribly bad anymore, should Thorin be worried about exhausting his guide’s gifts? Was spending so much time close together going to put Bilbo off their bond? If Thorin kept seeking him out would he be able to continue hiding his desire for a romantic relationship? As he worried, the decision was suddenly taken out of his hands by a hobbit grabbing one of said hands and matter-of-factly dragging him down to sleep next to him.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning, Thorin convinced a reluctant Bilbo that he needed to at least learn the basics of swordsmanship. Bilbo knew that a lot of luck had been involved in his use of the little blade so far, so he agreed on the condition that Thorin not be the one to teach him; the dwarf still needed to rest and recover.

So that was how it came to be that Dwalin was pointing a huge axe at Bilbo while Thorin watched from the porch. They had been at it for hours and the hobbit was getting very frustrated, not to mention sweaty and sore.

“Look, I have the basics of defense and how to not stab myself. I doubt I'll be doing much charging in battle, do we really need to continue here?”

“I wouldn' say yeh have even the basics of defense, but yeh know enough to keep yerself alive a few minutes. Teaching you attack skills'll help yeh to see where yer enemy is goin' next so you can better defend yerself. Isn't that righ', Thorin?”

Thorin, for his part, was doing his best to focus on the lesson happening, and not the increasingly transparent shirt his guide was wearing. Mahal's sake, he could think of nothing that would scare away the burglar faster than broadcasting his lust like a lech. It was harder than he had anticipated. It wasn't as if he had never noticed how attractive Bilbo was before, but knowing the bravery that lay beneath it had somehow intensified those qualities. Thorin cleared his throat, while Dwalin gave an exasperated knowing look at his slack jaw, and said “Why don't we get Nori in here to teach him about using his gifts in a fight?”

Dwalin rolled his eyes, but went to fetch Nori anyway. Given a few moments to rest, Bilbo walked around in a circle before bending over and placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He faced away from Thorin and pulled out one of the handkerchiefs he had borrowed from Beorn to wipe the sweat away from his face. Behind him, Thorin closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths.

“What's this I hear about our burglar finally learning how to fight?” called out the voice of a familiar redhead.

“Aye, I've been teaching him the basics -very basics- of swordplay,” answered Dwalin as they walked out of the house side by side. “We thought maybe you could help him learn how to use guide talents in battle.”

Nori put his hands on his hips and sized up the hobbit, who was still breathing heavily. Then he grinned and said “I'll teach him... IF he'll tell me how he got his silver spoons out of my pocket without me noticing.”

Dwalin put a hand to his face and began muttering about Mahal's joke on bonded matches, but Bilbo just smiled and said “Deal.”

Nori clapped and then rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! Now, first things first: I know you've got the whole stealth thing down pat. If you're in a fight, forget that. It's not going to matter if your opponent knows you're fuckin' with them or not, it's only going to matter how strong and fast you can push. If it's you against one, you can just use all your energy in one go and put 'em to sleep.”

Bilbo nodded, having had experience with that particular one, although no success with it lately.

“Something else you can do is alternate two conflicting emotions, one right after the other to unsettle 'em,” He shrewdly looked at the small guide. “That's what you did with Azog, wasn't it?”

Bilbo shifted on his feet and nodded again, uncomfortable with remembering that particular fight now that he knew who he had been up against.

“I was a few yards from you, but I thought I felt it. It’s been said before, but I bet you've got a fair amount of power on you, when you can learn to use your outside voice if you know what I mean.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes to hide his very real fear that he would be unable to do just that.

“A third thing to do is to try to overwhelm an enemy with a completely inappropriate feeling. That's what I do with Dwalin when we fight,” Nori smirked. “I have yet to lose an argument.”

Dwalin was blushing, but didn't disagree. “Come on, little one. Let's see yeh try one o' these in a spar.”

Bilbo, too tired to bristle at being called ‘little one’, placed himself across from Dwalin in the courtyard while Nori went to sit next to Thorin, leaning back on his hands. “This could get interesting,” he said to the sentinel. Thorin, having slightly more intimate knowledge of Bilbo’s gifts, actually thought it would be a very short match, but said nothing.

Dwalin swung his axe from hand to hand, twisting the grip, getting ready for an attack, when a wild noise escaped his mouth. He frowned at himself and paused in his movements. Bilbo was staring intently at him, holding his sword at the ready. Dwalin brought his axe up again and took a step toward Bilbo when his mouth broke out in another wild sound, this time just barely identifiable as a giggle.

“Here we go,” said Nori.

Bilbo slowly lowered his sword, even as Dwalin took another halting step towards him. The guide cocked his head slightly to the right, and looked thoughtfully at Dwalin. Approximately half a second later, Dwalin broke into huge, echoing guffaws and dropped his axe on the ground. The dwarf clutched at his belly and gasped for breath between peals of booming laughter. Bilbo let his sword drop to his side and walked over to the porch to sit next to Thorin. The three of them silently watched Dwalin shriek himself into hysterics for a moment before Nori said “That'll do it. How long do you think you could keep him going for?”

Bilbo thought for a moment and then took Thorin's hand. “If I were touching Thorin, I could do it for hours at least. Maybe even days, assuming he didn’t suffocate first. That's quite a long time, isn't it? I don't think I could have done it for longer than a couple of hours before I had a bond.”

Nori nodded. “Bonds can be very useful that way,” he looked over at his own bonded and shook his head with a little smile. “I suppose we should let him breathe a bit, Bilbo.”

“Oh, of course.”

In the middle of the courtyard, Dwalin was lying curled up on his side, still convulsing with laughter. Slowly, he started to hiccup his way back to normal breathing. Eventually he sat up and picked up his axe. He looked up at the three on the porch and said (if a bit shakily) “His majesty can take over yer lessons from now on.”

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

They rested at Beorn’s for a few days while their bodies and spirits healed. Beorn supplied them with food, water skins and bedrolls, and lent them ponies to use until the forest’s edge. “Streams and rivers will be plentiful until you reach Mirkwood; after that I can promise you nothing. There is one stream that runs through the forest, black and fast. You should not drink it or bathe in it; I have heard that it carries an enchantment of great drowsiness and forgetfulness. Once you are in the forest, **do not** leave the path. That is all the advice I can give you. May your Maker watch over you.”

They were profuse in their thanks, and set off on the borrowed ponies towards Mirkwood. The morning was glorious with the first bite of autumn in the air, and the company began to speak excitedly about quickly making it through the forest and up the mountain with time to spare before Durin’s Day. They spoke of what they would do with their share of the treasure and what crafts they would take up again once they lived in the mountain.

“Aye!” declared Bofur as they rode. “Minin’ is a fine trade, one I’m a fair hand at, but I’ll be happy to turn t’ somethin’ new that risks fewer broken bones,” he grinned jauntily.

“I’ll bet,” agreed Óin. “I’m fairly sure I saw you more often in Ered Luin than the rest of the company combined.”

“Oh, s’not bad as all that! Really? More than Dwalin with his big, meaty, scar paws?”

Dwalin snorted from far back in the line and called up, “My ‘big, meaty, scar paws’ are used more for inflictin’ scars than receivin’ ‘em!”

Bofur frowned. “What about Bifur? He had regular trips to the hospital to get his axe examined!”

“He comes once a year for a check; you came at least that often and some years more. Although granted, some of those were related less to mining and more to ale…” mused Óin.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, Fíli and Kíli then. They’re always in trouble! They must have come in often enough with their mother’s boot lodged in their-”

“Usually that’s metaphorical, not literal,” interrupted Thorin with a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“What about you, then, Oakenshield? End up with any healer worthy splinters?” teased Bofur.

“Unfortunately most of my strain came from holding back my fists as I argued with Men over the prices of my smithing,” he intoned blandly.

“There’s got to be someone who ended up in the hospital more’n me! Dori or Glóin maybe?”

Óin shook his head.

“My baby brother was quite clumsy as a babe-”

“Not near as much as you as an adult!” shot back Bombur.

“What about Balin or Ori? Oh, Nori! His sticky fingers must’ve gotten him no end of fights that landed in the hospital!”

“I’m too pretty to hit,” Nori said as he sidled past.

Bofur shook his head defeatedly. “I s’pose that’s me beat then. Unless our burglar’s been havin’ doily related hospital visits in the past,” he cheekily added.

“Actually,” interjected Gandalf, “the hospitals of the Shire don’t admit guides.”

Everyone looked at the wizard incredulously before looking to Bilbo for confirmation. Uncomfortably, he nodded and cleared his throat to explain.

“Guides can serve in hospitals and visit, but the general hobbit thinking is that guides as patients could hurt the other patients. There’s that chance of unconscious projection, you see. A guide with a broken leg could project their distress to all the other patients and slow their healing; or such is the hobbit belief.”

There was a certain amount of truth to this, the dwarves acknowledged, but- “That’s certainly not common!” cried out Óin. “Why not just move them farther away from the other patients? Or use one of the working guides as a block?”

“There’s no guarantee that a guide who can block would be available, as there are so few of us. It’s still believed to be too much of a risk.”

Thorin sat on his pony in silent shock. Bilbo had said that the gifted weren’t widely accepted in the Shire, but he hadn’t said they were outright _shunned._

Still stunned, Thorin muttered “Thank Mahal you’ve never needed a hospital.”

“Well, there was the one time he swooned and no one could pull him out,” corrected Gandalf, helpful as ever.

Thorin’s face whipped to his guide. “I thought you said you never swooned?!”

Bilbo was desperate to not talk about this. “I said I hadn’t swooned since I was young. It only happened the once, after the breaking of my first bond. Luckily Gandalf happened by and was able to pull me out. I never needed the hospital, I never swooned again, and I’m sure that Bofur’s ale related hospital visits are much more interesting.” His voice absolutely closed the subject.

The company was quiet for a moment before Bofur piped up again.   
“I’m always the most interestin’ subject! There was that time with two hammers, the crow, an’ the black powder…”

Gradually the company returned to its jocular self, and most of the dwarves forgot about the oddities of hobbits. Except, of course, for Thorin, who was silently making promises to himself that Bilbo would never be treated like an outcast again.

 

Three days passed, and on the fourth they approached the forest.

Mirkwood projected an oppressive presence even outside its borders. Birds ceased to sing. Deer and rabbits no longer ran alongside the trail. Bilbo could almost feel the air getting heavier with bleakness. He did _not_ want to enter the forest, but knew that the choice was not up to him. The afternoon of the fourth day, they reached the edge and prepared to send back their ponies.

“What about your horse, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked when he saw the wizard had removed none of his packs.

“I am not sending it back. I am taking it back myself. I must leave you here; I’ve already come much farther than I intended and I have business to which I must attend.”

Some of the company of dwarves were inclined to groan at this; they had come to think of him as a permanent fixture who would always be there to help them out of sticky situations. Bilbo, however, could feel an uncharacteristically deep worry and need to hurry from the wizard. He knew that Gandalf was not leaving because he wanted to, but rather because he had to. Whatever business he had to attend could very well be worse than a trip through Mirkwood. Bilbo shivered at the thought and, feeling bad for the wizard, looked beseechingly at Thorin, who snapped at the company to stop behaving like whining children.

“We thank you for all your help, Gandalf," he said, "from finding us our fourteenth member to leading us to Beorn, we owe you much.”

Gandalf made no attempt to hide his smirk at Thorin's reaction to a single look from his guide. "Yes, well, I think one of those may prove to be more important than the others. Farewell friends! Do not stray from the path! We may meet again before your quest is through, or we may not. Look after each other and think of the reward at the end."

With a grim determination, Gandalf rode away from them surrounded by a herd of 14 ponies and was not seen again by the company until the end of the journey.


	22. Chapter 22

The company pressed on into the forest by mid-afternoon. Before they had gone half a mile into the woods, the trees and brush became so dense it was as if the sun had set. It got harder and harder to see the further they traveled, and eventually they paused to set up a partnering system.

The sentinels were the only ones who could see clearly at this point, so the five company sentinels paired with their guides and one other to lead them. Kíli and Thorin had the best eyesight, so Thorin (who was leading Bilbo and Bofur) took the front and Kíli (paired with Fíli and Ori) came last. They walked until the sun really had set outside the trees and it became too dark for even the sentinels to walk safely.

They managed a fire that night, though the wood from the forest protested being lit and fluttered weakly once it submitted to burning. They continued with these fires for just a few days before the light began to draw in droves of great, flapping moths. Everyone agreed that it wasn't worth the minimal warmth they were getting from the fires to continue lighting them. Instead, they all piled together to sleep at night, sharing warmth and blankets.

For weeks the company struggled on, the food in their packs getting lighter and their water skins emptying a little bit at a time. However, this wasn't the greatest trial of Mirkwood. The heavy air of the forest had a way of getting inside your head and dripping into your soul, contaminating everything it came in contact with. Dark thoughts spread throughout the company, despite the attempts of the guides to lift them free. The guides themselves were combating their own bleak outlook.

One night, after a particularly rough day of travel that left Bilbo battered from tripping repeatedly over things he couldn't see, the small burglar simply fell into his bedroll without bothering to eat from what little they had left. What was the point, he thought, when he would still be hungry afterwards anyway. He didn't sleep though. The pains of his body shaded his mind, and Bilbo found himself carried deeper and deeper into memories he usually did everything to avoid.

 

He thought of the time he had been the prisoner of his bond partner. It had begun after that first forced burglary. It took a week of Donyc talking about all the wealth they could attain together before Bilbo was ready to accept the consequences of breaking his bond with Donyc. He would break the bond, and get home as fast as he could before sickness or swoons could take hold. Donyc seemed to sense this, and took measures accordingly.

“The day we made a bond was the first real day of my life Bilbo,” he had said. “I'll never find a better partner and neither will you. We work so well together, Bilbo. We can achieve so much! I don't know what I would do without you... well, I guess I do. If you left me I would have to go find your father and use him to convince you to come back! Yes, you know, I think that’s exactly what I would do if you left. Find your father. Would you like it if I met your father, Bilbo? Talked to him? Or what about that gardener you've talked about? Gumgee? Oh no, Gamgee was his name. Hamfast Gamgee. I bet he could help convince you to keep a bond with me too.”

Bilbo stared up at Donyc, horrified at the seriousness he felt from Donyc. The sentinel gave yet another cruel twist and slap to the bond that connected them and said “But I guess I'll never have to do that because you'll never leave.”

It was merely days later that Bilbo had come out of a house during a job to see Donyc's hands and front covered in blood.

“What happened??” he exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down! There was a problem, now there's not.”

“What-”

“I said _I took care of it.”_

Bilbo threw up the minute they got back to the house they were staying in. If he had somehow managed to delude himself into thinking that Donyc didn't mean some of the things he said, then could do that no longer. During the following months, Bilbo was sure he only saw a fraction of all the violence incurred by his sentinel, but it was enough for him to know that Donyc was an effective and merciless murderer.

 

Bilbo was sunk so deep into his memories that he didn’t notice the others settling down around him in the forest. He didn’t notice Thorin looking at him with concern or laying down right next to him. He didn’t notice his true match reaching along the bond after lying awake for hours, and didn’t notice the fear the sentinel had at the blackness he felt from the burglar.

He did notice when Thorin carefully took Bilbo's hand in his and tucked them around his middle. Bilbo struggled out from his memories in time for Thorin to tug him over, Bilbo's back to his front, and whisper in his ear, “My guide, what is bringing you so much darkness? You should be asleep, dreaming of feasts and sunlight.”

Bilbo closed his eyes at the sound of Thorin's low voice, and allowed the touch of his sentinel to soothe him. He managed to find enough voice to murmur, “I'm just dwelling on the past like a fool.”

Thorin nodded and was silent for a moment.

“I realize you're not in a swoon, but would it help you to sleep if I offered you something to focus on?”

“I honestly don't know. I've never had a sentinel do that before. As I said, the only time I've ever swooned, Gandalf brought me back.”

Thorin was quiet for another moment, and Bilbo could practically feel the questions building up behind his closed mouth. However, when he finally opened it, he only made his offer again.

“I'm willing to try, if you think it could help you sleep.”

Unbelievably thankful for Thorin reigning in his curiousity, Bilbo nodded. The sentinel adjusted his grip on his guide's hand so that their fingers were intertwined and then pressed his face down into Bilbo's curls. First, Bilbo only noticed that their bond began to hum. Then slowly, he realized he was hearing much more. The sounds took up his attention, blocking out the usual emotional flow of his surroundings. Bilbo heard night birds swooping through the air and the buzz of the insects. The regular snuffles and snores of the company were much louder and easier to individually distinguish. Then one sound captured his attention.

_Thump-bump. Thump-bump. Thump-bump._

Thorin's heartbeat.

Quietly thinking that he would never admit to being calmed by such a soppy thing, he grasped onto it and let it float him to sleep.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

The weather got colder. Autumn must have been arriving outside the forest, but the only indication of it inside Mirkwood was the drop in temperature. The magic of the forest and their hunger had them all so far inside their own heads that they barely noticed, except to huddle closer at night. One day they came to a rushing black stream, and it's a good thing they had been warned against it. Otherwise they would have been thrilled to refill their waterskins and take the chance for a bath, even in frigid water. As it was, the danger they had been warned against was enough to wake them up a little so they could find a way across.

“I think I see a boat, uncle,” Kíli said, keeping a hand on Fíli as he looked. “On the other side. I'm not sure if it's tied or just on shore. Do you see it?”

Thorin stared across the black water blankly before looking down to see Bilbo holding out his hand. Thorin took it gratefully and felt his guide anchor him as he put his energies into seeing through the darkness.

“I see it. Kíli, get out your bow. We'll attach a rope to an arrow; if you sink it into the wood far enough, we can pull the boat back and use it to cross.”

Without another word, Kíli readied himself and an arrow. He took a stance at the water's edge while Fíli stood behind him in an obviously practiced move with a hand beneath his hair on the back of his neck. Kíli let the arrow fly, and the company collectively held it's breath before a sigh of relief came from Thorin and Kíli.

They tugged on the rope and, feeling a little resistance, pulled harder. The sentinels of the group heard a _snap!_ And the boat came across the water.

“Huh, it was tied,” said Bilbo. “With a pretty good rope, too. It's a good thing ours was stronger. Does this rope look elvish to you?”

No one answered him, but all crowded around to look at the boat.

“Looks solid, no leaks. This could fit a nice two or three at a time,” said Bofur. “Bilbo, get in and test it.”

“Excuse me? Why do I have to be the one to test it?”

Bofur shrugged. “You're the lightest.”

Grudgingly accepting that this made a certain amount of sense, Bilbo started to climb over the side when he felt Thorin start to lift him under the arms.

 _“Thorin Oakenshield._ If you value your hands you will remove them this instant and never attempt to hold me like fauntling again. Do you understand?”

Everyone could hear the steel in his voice, but his sentinel was the only one to feel exactly how serious Bilbo was about his threat.

Royalty does not sulk, but Thorin may have had something close to it in his voice when he replied, “I was just trying to help... and if the boat starts to sink, I can make no guarantees as to how I will get you out; only that it will be as fast as possible.”

Luckily the boat did not begin to sink, and was in fact perfectly solid. Kíli tied another rope to an arrow and shot it into a tree across the water so they could hold to it while they crossed. They made it in threes and twos over the current, except Bombur who came alone and last because no one else could fit in beside him.

Bombur was just climbing out of the boat, and they were all congratulating themselves on a job well done, when Bifur gasped and looked off the trail to the right. Thorin and Dori turned their heads next, with Dwalin and Kíli immediately following, and all five sentinels had their ears turned towards whatever they heard. Suddenly everyone could hear it; the sound of hooves galloping towards them. Before you could wink Thorin had an arrow fitted in his bow which he let fly the moment a stag appeared out of the trees. The deer was struck, and bucked wildly before stumbling back into the trees, just out of sight.

A great cheer went up from the company, and the first smiles in many weeks were growing on their faces.

“Maybe we won't starve before we make it out of this accursed wood after all,” said Glóin, “but we'll have to leave the trail to fetch it.”

Thorin's relief at having food for his company was undimmed. “I'm sure it's just off into the woods a little bit. Fíli, you and Kíli come with me to get the stag.”

Bilbo felt uneasy. “Beorn and Gandalf said we shouldn't leave the path...” he tapered off. He didn't want to starve more than anyone else, in fact even less if hobbit sensibilities were taken into account, but leaving the trail didn't seem like any kind of a good idea. “Should I come with you? In case you need help finding it?”

“No, my guide. Stay here and help get a fire ready. It couldn't have gotten far; I know exactly where my arrow point landed.” Thorin touched his forehead to Bilbo's before the three heirs of Durin disappeared into the forest.

Bilbo helped gather wood as the dwarves cursed over the fire they were trying to start. This far into the forest the timber was even more reluctant to light, if possible. They were not getting more than a few flames before it died out again. The burglar grew more and more unsettled the longer his sentinel was gone. Eventually his nervous shuffling and tittering was too much, and Dwalin volunteered himself, Nori, Balin and Dori to go help get the deer back.

Bilbo was grateful. There was no way three guides and four sentinels wouldn't find their way back to the trail. The fire continued to protest it's existence, and the day got later. Óin became concerned and decided that he and Bifur should go after them as well. Bofur went too, just in case “those gifted've got themselves into trouble that needs some sense to get out of,” he had joked.

When those three didn't return, Bilbo decided it was well past the time to panic. There were only four members of the company left on the path; everyone else had disappeared. For the last hour, Bilbo had been feeling along his bond to Thorin, trying to tell if he was in trouble or not. The bond was still in place, so he was at least alive, but no matter how Bilbo petted or plucked at it, he only felt quiet at the other end. It was as if Thorin were asleep. Whatever had happened had rendered his sentinel unconscious before he could feel any real pain or fear. Bombur, Glóin and Ori had long ago given up on the fire and were now arguing on whether they should go after the rest of the company, and who they should send. Eventually Bilbo brought up the point that whoever got left behind would be in just as much danger as those going in, so they all went together.

It was just as dark in the trees as it had been on the path, with the added bonus of more things to run into. They searched as well as they could, calling out to the others while Bilbo used his gifts to search for any souls he might be able to sense. It soon began to get even darker, though, and they decided to settle together where they were and resume the fruitless search in the morning. Deeming it pointless to set a watch when none of them could see an inch in front of their own face, they all closed their eyes, tried to imagine they were anywhere else, and slept.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

Bilbo wasn't sure what was the first thing that woke him up. It might have been the chittering of the strange voices around him, or a latent part of his gifts sensing an unknown creature. Whatever it was, he came to just as a gigantic spider (much bigger than Bilbo himself) was spitting out great gobs of sticky string to tie him up. Bilbo jumped up to the spider's surprise, and punched it square in an eye. The beast shrieked and tried to get at the hobbit with it's poison, but Bilbo remembered his brief training and brought his sword up right to the middle of the spider's head and thrust it in. The spider rolled on it's back and twitched a few times before going still.

Bilbo was a little shocked at everything that had happened in the few moments between now and waking up, but mostly he was just proud that he had finally used his sword properly. Abruptly, he remembered his companions and whirled around to see if they had already been eaten. What he saw, just barely through the faint morning light, was another spider scuttling off through the trees with a web-wrapped package that looked about the same size as a dwarf. Bilbo quickly followed.

Staying quiet in a way that only a hobbit with burglary experience can, Bilbo followed closely without alerting them to his presence. After a good while they came to the spider's nest, and Bilbo saw 13 dwarf shaped web wrappings hanging from the trees. Bilbo took a few deep breaths and tried to think quickly. How was he going to save his dwarves? He needed a distraction, and he needed every advantage he could get. Thinking of the ring that had made him invisible, he pulled it out of his pocket before hesitating. Gandalf had warned him against wearing it... but an emergency like this surely called for drastic measures. Ignoring the fact that ignoring Gandalf's advice had gotten them into this mess in the first place, he put on the ring.

Once again, Bilbo immediately felt muffled. He had to fight the urge to pop his ears, knowing that he could hear fine and that it was his gifts that was causing the problem. It was even more uncomfortable this time, but empathy wasn't what he needed right now. What he needed was a rock.

He found a good sized one, and threw it as hard as he could away from the dwarves. The spiders all looked up at the sound and scuttled after it, eager to find more food, except for one who stayed behind to guard their nest. The disgusting beast poked and prodded at the dwarves, spending a lot of time gleefully squeezing Bombur in particular.

Bilbo quietly came up behind the creature and stabbed it in the back, then it turned around and gave him the opportunity to stab it in the head. Once it was dispatched, Bilbo took off the ring and began cutting down his friends. He got their hands and legs free before moving on to the next one, but some of them were too sick and dizzy from the poison to get very much of the web string off of themselves.

Thorin was the last one Bilbo cut down, and the little guide was enormously relieved to see his sentinel. Before he could help him get free of the web, however, the clicks and snaps of the spiders were heard coming back again.

“Run! As quickly as you can! I will draw them off!”

And with that, he jammed the ring back onto his finger and disappeared. Some of the dwarves with more poison in their system were entirely confused, but the more capable ones managed to herd the company into stumbling away.

Bilbo was darting through the trees, away from the dwarves, yelling and taunting in turn. He sliced and hacked any time he got near enough, and soon the enraged spiders were intent on finding this invisible sting. The burglar grew in confidence with his blade and killed several of the spiders before he deemed them far enough away.

Silently, he doubled back around to follow the company. As he neared them, he realized with horror that a group of spiders had broken off to follow his dwarves. They were holding their own as best they could, but it was obvious that they were compromised. Bilbo broke into a run with his sword held high.

However, before he could reach them, a group of tall figures descended on the fight. Several of the spiders were cut clean in two and others had multiple arrows sticking out of them. Elves, Bilbo realized. They had wandered into the lands of the elven king.

As the spiders were dispatched, tall archers surrounded the group of dwarves. Those who were aware enough growled and tried to arm themselves, but after a few moments of struggling to even stand straight, they admitted defeat and handed their weapons over. Bilbo watched them be taken prisoner in silence with his ring on, and quietly followed them as they marched into the elven kingdom.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

As soon as the dwarves entered the home of the King of Mirkwood, they were separated. The sickest ones were taken to see healers while the ones who could still walk under their own power were pushed toward prison cells. Thorin, however, who had shaken off enough of the poison to walk and think fairly clearly, was taken directly to the king.

When Bilbo saw that he wouldn't be able to stay with all of them, he wasted several moments darting back and forth, unable to make up his mind about who he should be following. In the end though, he realized he couldn't leave Thorin alone.

Bilbo stood off to the side of the throne room, staring at Thorin, trying to gauge his well-being from looks alone without the aid of his gifts. The blasted ring was the only thing keeping him safe now, but he cursed the lack of empathy.

Thorin stood straight and silently looked directly at the elven king, who stared back equally silent before standing and gracefully descending from his throne.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” the elf said before pausing.

Thorin waited for him to continue. When it seemed he wouldn't, Thorin answered “Thranduil of the Woodland realm. I also know your name. If that's all that's needed here, my companions and I will be going now.”

Thranduil looked down his nose at the dwarf before returning to his throne.

“You seek to return to your kingdom,” said the king finally. “You desire a stone that would give you the power to rule a kingdom once again. The Arkenstone. Don't try to feed me another tale, we both know the only truth here.” Thranduil paused again, and Bilbo began to wonder how much of this conversation would actually take place in silence.

“There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I will let you go... if you will but return what is mine.”

Thorin's face twisted in an unrecognizable expression. “You think I would trust a deal with you? You who abandoned my people when we were homeless and starving? You who broke the treaty and refused us aid as we burned? I would not trust Thranduil the Great King to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!”

The elven king did not move from his throne in response to this outburst, but very slowly and quietly said “Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the north and knew what awaited the greed of your grandfather. You are just like him. Stay here if you will and rot.”

With a single hand motion, Thranduil instructed the guards to drag Thorin away. Bilbo, shaken but still silent, followed.

 

Bilbo followed the guards down to see Thorin thrown into a dark cell, far away from any other rooms or corridors. Thorin immediately began pacing the walls of his room, looking for any weaknesses he might exploit. Bilbo was worried, and wanted desperately to remove the ring so he could make use of his gifts, but he didn't dare. Instead he whispered “Thorin, it's Bilbo.”

Thorin's head whipped up from where he was inspecting the bars of his prison. “Bilbo? Do you still wear the ring?”

Bilbo nodded before he remembered that he couldn't be seen, and said “Yes... I followed you into the throne room.”

Thorin's expression darkened. “The elvish swine thinks he can control me with lies. If he would not honor a promise to an entire kingdom of dwarves, why would he honor a promise to 13 homeless wanderers? He cannot be trusted. We cannot rely on him, Bilbo.”

“But what if that was our only chance out of here?”

“Obviously it's not; we have you. You can find us an escape, my guide. I know you can.”

The earnestness in Thorin's eyes was nearly heartbreaking in it's intensity. Bilbo didn't know if he was deserving of this kind of trust, and he still wasn't sure that taking up Thranduil's offer wasn't a better idea, but Bilbo lifted his chin and steeled himself.

“I suppose I'd better find the others then.”

Bilbo found the others up three corridors and one turn to the left, and also found that they were all grouped together. The ones who had suffered most from spider poison and lack of food and water had been treated and were resting in their cells. The rest were grumpy and unsettled at this turn of events, but as Bilbo went from cell to cell, telling them of his intention to find a way out and assuring them of Thorin's well-being, the dwarves gave out a few smiles and more votes of confidence.


	26. Chapter 26

After one week, Bilbo was fairly sure that their confidence was misplaced. After two he felt like he was suffocating, both from the extended absence of his empathy gifts and the pressure of being unable to find a way out. Bilbo followed the guards around, knowing they would always lead him back to the dwarves. This helped him find the kitchens where he could swipe food now and then, but sleep was almost impossible to find without a safe place to lay. He was too worried about being tripped over and discovered. By the third week, he had determined that it would be impossible to leave by the front gate, and had yet to see any other exit. Time before Durin’s Day was running out, and Bilbo was getting nowhere.

In a haze of tiredness one evening, he found himself standing in front of Thorin's cell without remembering how he got there.

“Bilbo?” whispered Thorin.

Bilbo startled. “I'm wearing the ring. How did you know I was here?”

“There's a sort of... extra blank spot. I doubt I would have noticed if our talents were not a true match.” He paused “... Are you alright?”

“It's this thrice damned ring!” he burst out. “I can't _feel_ anything, Thorin. When I'm wearing it I can't taste the air around the company, I can't truly know if they're okay! I can't know what the elves are feeling, I can't really understand anyone's actions, and _I can't feel you.”_

Thorin's heart ached for the smaller man. He also thought he understood, in part. At least the bit about not feeling Thorin. The place in the back of his mind where Bilbo had sat since the Carrock was empty every time Bilbo wore the ring, and it terrified Thorin. But if it was the price to pay for his burglar's safety in invisibility, then he would willingly pay it. However, he wasn't sure that was all of the problem.

“Bilbo, when is the last time you slept? Or ate?”

Bilbo paused, and swayed slightly before regaining his balance. “Do you know, I can't recall?”

“Oh, Bilbo.” Thorin stuck his hand through the bars, unable to keep from reaching out for his suffering bond partner. Bilbo leaned his cheek into the rough palm without thinking. They both stood like that for a quiet moment. “They'll be bringing my evening meal soon,” Thorin whispered. Without removing himself from Thorin's touch, Bilbo mumbled “I should go before they arrive.”

“Why don't you stay?”

“...What?”

“You can sneak past the guard when they open the door to deliver the food. We can share it -no don't argue, I have another sure meal coming in the morning, when you'll be back to swiping what you can- and I'll keep watch while you sleep. Really sleep, not that half slumber that's necessary when you're alone around these tree shaggers.”

“You've been down here for weeks and I still don't have a way out yet. How can I rest when the quest is in danger like this?”

“Like you said, we've been down here for weeks. One night will not make so much of a difference. Perhaps what you need to find an escape is a clear head and a fully belly.”

“I-”

Thorin's head whipped around, “They are coming, please Bilbo!”

There was no response from where Bilbo once stood.

 

The elf guard stopped in front of Thorin's cell. “Back to the wall, prisoner.” he barked. After the dwarf compiled, the guard quickly opened the door, placed the food on the ground, and grabbed the tray from the last meal while keeping an eye on his charge. After he relocked the door and Thorin could no longer hear the soft footfalls, he quietly whispered “Bilbo?”

Suddenly the burglar appeared near the back corner, placing the ring in his pocket. They both sighed in relief to feel the presence of the other's gifts. Thorin came to Bilbo and gently touched his forehead to the other man's, while Bilbo allowed Thorin's relief and affection wash over him. “Come, let’s sit and eat.”

Bilbo could barely keep his eyes open as they sat on the mattress in a dark corner, sharing their meal. As they ate, Bilbo felt along their bond, luxuriating in the opportunity he had been denied so long. With some surprise, he realized it felt… different. Not just stronger, but more enforced, like cables that had been plied together rather than just thickened. He realized that at some point they had crossed an invisible threshold into a bond of choice. The thought warmed him.

When the food was gone and the tray placed by the door, Bilbo slumped against the wall. “I should put the ring back on in case someone comes to check on you in the night.” He frowned, obviously displeased with the idea of putting it back on and muting himself again so soon.

Thorin shook his head, “This corner is dark, and you are small. If you lay between the wall and me, I'll stay on my side and these talentless idiots will never notice you.”

Unable to think of why this might be a bad idea when it sounded so lovely, Bilbo immediately tipped over onto the thin mat and closed his eyes. Thorin spread the blanket over the two of them, and curled around his guide a bit to better hide him from prying eyes. “Go to sleep, burglar,” he whispered, but the hobbit was already there.

 

Bilbo was having the most wonderful dream. He was in Bag End, lying in bed. The sun was shining through the window and warming his side. In his dream he rolled over towards the warmth before unexpectedly running into something solid. Something that smelled comforting. Something... breathing? He had a feeling he should be more concerned about what was apparently a person in his bed, and also that maybe he wasn't dreaming, but he was just so comfortable. Instead of opening his eyes, he used his gifts to trace lightly over the person sleeping next to him.

“That tickles.”

Bilbo smiled, a surge of affection for his bond partner rushing through him and into Thorin before he could temper it in his sleepy state. The dwarf inhaled sharply. Hesitantly, he pulled the smaller man closer. They were both silent for a while, just feeling the comfort of the other's presence. When Bilbo finally opened his eyes and looked up at Thorin, he felt an ache shoot through him. Before he could determine if it came from himself or his sentinel, Thorin startled.

“The guard is on his way!”

Bilbo quickly and silently slipped the ring on. The loss of his guide hit Thorin like a war hammer to the gut. As he fought back the panic that arose every time Bilbo was completely hidden from him, he felt a brush of lips over his brow. He turned his face, hoping to seek out where his burglar was standing, but the guard was already at the door and Bilbo was gone.

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

Thorin had been right. Whether it was the food, sleep, or just spending time without the blasted ring on, the next day Bilbo was able to find a way out. It wouldn’t be a particularly comfortable trip out of the kingdom, but it was better than rotting in a cell or being beheaded on their way out the front door.

What Bilbo had discovered was that a river flowed beneath the palace. It was used to ferry goods in barrels for the stores of the king, and saw quite a lot of traffic. Once he found the exit, the next step was to get the keys and remove the guards, and to do this he realized he would need to remove his ring.

He waited until evening, when the store room would be empty and the gate unattended. With the ring on, he crept up to the hallway where Thorin was being kept. He quietly whispered his plan to Thorin, who had no time to voice his reservations before the prison guard came on her rounds. Thorin stuck his arm through the bars, and Bilbo took off the ring.

The guard stood shocked as what looked like a child appeared out of thin air, and watched the apparition grab the forearm of her prisoner and stare back at her. Then her surprise disappeared, replaced by the most intense exhaustion she'd ever experienced. There was absolutely nothing else she could do but lay down right there on the floor and sleep.

Bilbo darted forward and grabbed her keys before unlocking Thorin's cell door. His sentinel practically leaped out and joyfully grabbed Bilbo by the shoulders. “You are truly amazing, ghivashel!”

“Bless you,” said Bilbo. “We need to free the others!”

Thorin let go of Bilbo in startlement at the words that had come from his own mouth. He'd called Bilbo that in his own mind before, but certainly hadn't meant to use the endearment out loud. Thanking Mahal for the harsh sounds of Khuzdul that had allowed Bilbo to misinterpret the word, he hurried after his guide.

12 uncaged captives later, Bilbo was cursing the loudness of dwarves and shushing their footsteps every few minutes. Thankfully, they made it down to the river without alerting anyone to their presence. Bilbo led them to the empty barrels he had spotted earlier in the day and said “We're going to float out. You get in these barrels, I'll open the gate and we'll ride the current right out of this revolting forest.”

There was a moment of silence before several voices started to talk at once: “You can't be serious-” “-We'll drown!-” “-If we don't get battered to death first-” _“-You can't be serious.”_

Bilbo's mouth grew more and more pinched with every comment before yelling over the noise, “Very well! Come along back to your nice cells, and I will lock you all in again, and you can sit there comfortably and think of a better plan.”

At this everyone shut up, but no one made a move toward the barrels. Bilbo waited with his hands on his hips before sending an exasperated look at Thorin, who immediately declared “Do as he says!”

The dwarves finally submitted to cramming themselves into the barrels as Bilbo hurried around, making sure each one had a lid securely clamped onto it. Thorin was the last, and before he had his lid put on he asked “What will you do? Are you going to swim out with us?”

“Oh heavens no, hobbits can't swim for love or money; I'd sink right to the bottom.”

“What?!”

Dori yelled out from his barrel “I hear footsteps! Get us out of here!”

At this, Bilbo shoved Thorin's lid over his protesting head and ran over to the lever that would release the gate. His little hands struggled with the heavy pull, but finally managed to flip it over before running back to the river and grabbing onto the side of an empty barrel and being carried out with the rest of his friends.

The water was cold and rough in places, but it was unwatched by the elves. Bilbo struggled to hold onto the barrel with numb fingers and worried about the others; whether they could breathe and how awfully they were being beaten. Eventually the trees thinned on either side and dwarves began to wash up on a shallow shore. Dwalin was the first to run aground, and he immediately busted out the top of his barrel and scrambled out. He went around knocking on the other barrels, finding and freeing the others, most of whom were groaning and clutching tender bruises. When Thorin was freed, he instantly began yelling for his guide.

“Bilbo! Where's the burglar?! Where is my guide?” He frantically ran up and down the shore, searching. However, Bilbo had been the last one through the gate and had sat differently in the water than those who were inside the barrels, and as such had washed up on a different part of the shore a bit earlier. Just as Thorin was really starting to lose it, Bilbo limped over a rise in the ground and into view. Thorin dashed over and swept Bilbo into such a complete embrace that he was lifted right off the ground. Bilbo could feel the distress and worry as clear as anything, and took a moment to soothe his sentinel and softly touch his cheek to provide comfort.

“Sh, it's alright, I'm alright, we're all alright. At least I think so. I count 13 dwarves and one hobbit, all still attached to their major limbs.”

“Mahal, Bilbo- I cannot believe you thought to tell me you can't swim right before our _water based escape plan._ I spent the entire trip convinced that you had drowned!”

“If you had taken a moment to asses our bond, you could have known that wasn't true,” gently scolded Bilbo.

“Thorin!” called Balin from the shore, “We need to get away from here! Men could come to collect these barrels any time!”

Thorin looked over and nodded. Taking Bilbo's hand, they walked back to gather the others somewhere they could pass the rest of the night hidden from prying eyes.

 

As Bilbo slept that night and while Thorin took watch, the sentinel took his guide's advice and assessed their bond. He mentally stroked along the lines that anchored him to his impressive burglar. It was strong; the strongest bond he'd ever had with a guide, and it didn't feel like nearly enough. He wanted all of Bilbo, and he wanted to give all of himself in return. If he had ever felt surprised at finding a true match to his gifts in a hobbit, he was now only surprised that he could be matched with someone so incredible. He thought that maybe, after Erebor was reclaimed, it would be enough for Bilbo to want to stay. Maybe if he stayed long enough, their bond would strengthen until it became a true bond. Maybe if they were close enough for a true bond, Bilbo would also want the things Thorin wanted. Maybe, maybe...

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for an implied suicide in this chapter!

The night passed into the next day, and they found themselves “lucky” enough to be smuggled into Lake-town by a serious sentinel man named Bard, discovered and nearly arrested, challenged publicly by Bard after they announced their goal of entering the mountain, before finally being welcomed by the slimy and repugnant Master of Lake-town. It was quite the exhausting day, to be honest. Especially after spending the previous night rolling down a river in a barrel.

Which perhaps was why Bilbo could not excuse himself fast enough from the feast being thrown in their honour. The feeling of the air around the Master and his sniveling servant were enough to make Bilbo want to put the ring back on. Despite the abundant food and free flowing (if unbelievably weak) ale, the guide slipped outside into the cold air alone.

Snow was gently falling, muffling sounds and softening the torch light dotted throughout the town. It felt peaceful in a way Bilbo hadn't experienced since before their journey began. Bilbo sat on a bench and pulled out what he thought to be the biggest benefit to the Master's welcome: a pipe and some pipe weed.

The weed was far below Bilbo's standards, but it was still better than no pipe weed. He packed and lit the pipe and settled into the moment, which is of course when he was interrupted. Luckily, the interruption came in the form of a dark haired, broad shouldered royal sentinel, for whom Bilbo was only too willing to make room on the bench. He silently offered Thorin the pipe, who gave it back after a few puffs.

“Won't you be missed?” Bilbo asked eventually.

“I doubt it. The Master has somehow managed to get spectacularly drunk on that watered down swill he's calling ale.

Bilbo hummed agreeably before lapsing into silence.

Thorin thought of the hugeness that lay before them. The mountain, the door, the dragon; he thought of the possibility of convincing Bilbo to stay in Erebor and leave behind... what? What did he really know about his guide’s life before?

“Bilbo, how did you become a burglar?”

Bilbo looked over at Thorin curiously before letting out a breath of smoke and handing the pipe back to his sentinel.

“I've always had clever fingers, and most hobbits can be silent on their feet if they wish.”

“Even with those great furry beasts you call toes?” Thorin tilted up a corner of his mouth.

“Yes, and don't interrupt if you're just going to be rude,” chastised Bilbo, but he was smiling. “I was even more quiet than most. Whether it was an innate gift or something that came from a childhood of snooping around, I couldn't say. I was in my late tweens when my mother became so ill that she had to stay at the hospital. They had strict rules as to what was allowed into the building, and my mother grew very bored. I started sneaking in books and puzzles for her, using my gifts to direct suspicion elsewhere. The staff never did figure out how I was doing it, despite me coming into my gifts literally at my mother's bedside. They can't really be blamed for missing it, though. When you came into your talents, you probably gained one or two aspects at a time, full force, right? ”

Thorin nodded. For dwarves, the first day you presented with gifts was usually a sort of violent and unpleasant affair. Thorin himself had been in the practice yard with his broadsword when the sounds surrounding him had become incredibly overwhelming. Second had been his sense of smell, which immediately caused him to vomit, the scent of which caused him to vomit again. His vision had been third, and he had latched onto the sight of a sapphire on the hilt of his sword so intently that he slipped into a zone, and didn't remember much after that. As was normal, his gifts went away after the first day only to reappear a few days later for a longer time, gradually pulling him into his full gifts one yank at a time, over the course of a month or so.

“For whatever reason, that never happened for me. I suppose it runs in the family; my mother said it was the same for her. The empathy came on quietly, a little at a time. At first I wasn't even sure what I was experiencing. My mother, sick as she was, began to notice something was different about me, and actually had to tell me I was a guide.”

He paused for a moment to take back the pipe for a few soothing inhalations.

“The burglary started in earnest after she died. I didn’t want the pain of grief. I was looking anywhere for a distraction from it. It started out innocent enough; switching the pocket contents of the butcher and the librarian to watch their confusion. Then I would get myself invited to parties and take a vase from one house to place it in another and watch the accusations fly. Once I even walked out of the museum with a life size full body portrait and no one noticed. Then I met Donyc,“ he sucked on the pipe again.

“Donyc and I became friends. He needed help to pay the healer for his sick mother, I suggested we burgle a valuable ring to get the money. We made a bond of convenience that night.”

Bilbo handed the pipe back to Thorin. The words were flowing now, the silence of the snow and the ease of the pipe weed allowing them to be spoken.

“At first everything was fine, at least to my stupid 30 year old sensibilities. We stole from those who could afford it so Donyc could keep his mother alive. Then his mother kicked him out,” Bilbo huffed a sour laugh. “I should have run then. I should have taken that as warning and gotten the hell out of there. Instead I stayed. More often and longer I stayed between visiting home, so that he could have the support of his bond partner. He began to show his true self, though I thought he was just having a bad go of it for a time. He started to steal from everyone, for himself instead of his mother. I suppose it always was for himself, really. When he started stealing from those who I knew could not afford it, I objected. He told me that if I didn’t help him burgle discreetly, then he would simply leave no witnesses.”

Thorin was listening intently. This story was the reason Bilbo had objected to bonds for so long, and the source of his fears was beginning to be clear.

“I conceded to his threats, but I didn’t truly believe them. Not until I saw him with blood on his hands. He was less discreet about his violence after that.” The hobbit shivered at the memory, and Thorin moved closer and put an arm around him. Bilbo didn’t even think twice about the contact, merely leaning into the comfort.

“I was trapped. If I refused to steal, he would kill instead. If I tried to talk him out of it, he had no problem demonstrating his superior strength all over my face and back. If I tried to leave, he would come after me and my father. I had put my one remaining parent’s life in danger with my stupid, stupid bond.”

Thorin could feel the echo of Bilbo’s past devastation coming through the bond, and it tore him to pieces inside. “How did you get out?” he whispered, staring at the falling snow.

Bilbo hadn’t meant to say this much. He was already in so deep with him. He hadn’t meant to ever tell Thorin about this. But what else was there to do? Either they would die reclaiming the mountain and none of this would matter anyway, or the dwarves would be triumphant and Thorin would need to find a more suitable, more dwarven guide. If that turned out to be the case, then knowing what Bilbo had done, and what that made him in the eyes of the dwarves would only make it easier to break the bond. These things between them were not sustainable.

“I used the only tools I had: empathy and subtlety. I realized that if I was gentle and quick enough, he wouldn’t know I was manipulating him. Over months I suggested the darkest feelings. I deliberately sank him into the kind of depression you don’t climb out of.”

 

The memory was still clear. There had come a week where Donyc hardly got out of bed at all. Bilbo had pushed a steady diet of blankness and deep depression quietly into his mind as he packed his few belongings and hid them out of sight. The next morning, he brought a loaf and some butter in on a tray with a sharp knife.

“I thought you might like some breakfast today.”

Donyc said nothing, but his eyes slid over the tray.

“I'm going to go out to the market this morning. Do you need anything before I go?”

Still nothing. The sentinel’s eyes wandered over the bread, butter, and knife.

“Alright then, I'm off.”

Bilbo had closed the bedroom door behind him and picked up his small pack. He turned to face the closed door and braced himself against what he was about to do. He pushed a wall of worthlessness through the door and into the next room. It was followed by an equally powerful wave of deep sadness, and another of guilt. He drilled these three emotions over and over again, until he was exhausted. Then he had turned on his heel and the bond snapped in two.

 

“I left him in a room with one of his knives, broke our bond and walked away,” Bilbo said to Thorin. “I don’t know for sure if he killed himself. He never came to kill me so I assume so.”

Thorin felt as if his throat were closing in on itself.

“No. Bilbo, no, you couldn’t possibly have done that. The people who do that, they’re-”

“The Poppy Tongued. I know. That’s exactly what I did.”

The guide shrugged out from underneath his sentinel’s arm and finally looked in his eyes. “I don’t regret it, Thorin. It came down to his life or mine, and if it was mine then it was also my father’s and all the people who Donyc would have murdered. So I don’t regret it,” he took a deep breath. “But I do regret the fact that it makes me impossible to trust.”

Thorin stared at his guide; the true match to his gifts. The teachings of Mahal declared that he was looking at the other half of his soul. Without him, this journey would have ended in pain and death months ago. Thorin remembered Gandalf’s words back in Hobbiton. _“Bilbo has his reasons for tying down his talents tightly, and you should hope you never truly find out why.”_

The wizard had been right. Thorin wished he’d never found out why.

Bilbo could feel the jumble of Thorin’s thoughts coursing through his mind. He wondered if Thorin thought Bilbo was manipulating him now… If their positions were reversed, Bilbo would have been suspicious. He stood up.

“If you want to talk I’ll be in the room across from Bombur’s,” and he left Thorin still holding the pipe.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

After his guide left, Thorin’s mind went silent. The carousel of his thoughts stopped and he watched the snow fall. Then, unbidden, a memory arose: last night, the intense desire to have all of Bilbo and give all of himself in return.

Was Thorin so flighty? That he should want ignorance of this integral part of Bilbo’s life so soon after his first wish? The dwarven disgust surrounding the Poppy Tongued was based in their manipulation for greed. What Bilbo had done was equal to a warrior fighting for his life; not a dwarf trying to get exclusive access to the biggest seam of gold in a mine.

Bilbo possessed great talents. Thorin had already known that. The fact that he had demonstrated capability for what the Poppy Tongued did, didn’t mean he was untrustworthy. Balin probably had the power and could learn the subtlety to do the same; he had just never been put in a position where he needed to try. What did this actually change about his bond with Bilbo, aside from his understanding of the hobbit?

Thorin snapped back to the present and became aware of a great sorrow and grief sitting on the bond, obviously coming from Bilbo. He hurriedly stood up, tapped out the pipe and went to find his guide.  

 

Bilbo sat on the huge bed in the room set aside for his use. He was breathing deeply, staring at the wall, trying to contain the churning in his gut and hold on tightly to his feelings. He hadn’t known just how badly he wanted to keep his bond with Thorin until the breaking was imminent.

 _Foolish, half-witted hobbit,_ he thought. _You were never going to be able to keep him._ Thorin hadn’t broken their bond yet, but Bilbo thought it very unlikely that it would still be there in the morning. He wondered if he would slip into a swoon again, and if one of the dwarves would be willing to help him out of it. Would Thorin tell everyone Bilbo’s story? They still needed a burglar for the mountain, but perhaps they would ask Nori to do it. How was Bilbo going to get home? Did he even want to go home? Bilbo trained his thoughts away from his sentinel, and the conclusion he was no doubt reaching at this very moment: Bilbo could not be trusted.

Therefore he was very startled when there was a knock on his bedroom door. The guide carefully let himself down from the great height of his bed and padded over, wondering if perhaps someone had had too much to drink and was looking for the loo.

Thorin waited agitatedly on the other side. When the door opened to show Bilbo’s surprised face, he was unsure.

“You... said I could come talk with you,” he said hesitatingly.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Bilbo ushered him in. He had made the offer, but hadn’t actually expected Thorin to take him up on it. After all, what else could really be said, besides “you disgust me how could you possibly let our bond go this far without telling me about your past”?

Well. That would be understandable. Perhaps that’s why he came.

Bilbo shut the door behind them and they awkwardly stood several feet apart for a moment before Thorin cleared his throat and said “I want to talk to you, but I don’t know if I can concentrate on what I need to say when I can feel how upset you are. Could… If the bond would be soothing to you, we could sit near each other and touch.”

“I didn’t know you could feel my emotions so well through the bond.” Bilbo was a little embarrassed; he was used to knowing everyone else’s secret feelings but not to others knowing he had them as well. “I was trying to be quiet, I don’t mean to be a distraction.”

“No, Bilbo- you don’t need to apologize for having emotions,” Thorin shook his head, unbelieving of the need to say that to an empath. “Please, come and touch my hand or my wrist, anything you are comfortable with. This might also help us to understand each other more clearly; something I think we are in desperate need of currently.”

Thorin turned around and sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed, and held out his hand. Bilbo cautiously came over and took the hand in his own, but kept a good foot of space between their bodies as he sat next to his sentinel.

They both took a minute to relax into the touch-heightened bond. Bilbo observed what he now realized was a quite detailed exchange of emotional information flow between them. He had been so involved in receiving a glut of empathic information about his partner that he had never realized how much he was transmitting back.

“You think I’m going to break our bond,” realized Thorin out loud. “Then let me begin by saying that is not something I want or plan to do.”

Bilbo felt a great well of relief, before tightening up again. He didn’t plan to do it now, but he would still need someone different, someone who was better this whole bonded thing, once he became king. Thorin continued speaking.

“What you did… They were the actions of a cornered, desperate guide with no resources except his own power. If a dwarf had been in your position, they probably would have done their best to get a weapon and kill the fiend. I can not honestly say you did anything different. You attacked his mind instead of his body, but the reason for doing it and the end result is the same: a horrible man who had to be stopped was stopped.”

“I am even glad you did it, if it means you were still alive for me to meet you, my true match. I have no evidence that you would ever attempt such a thing on anyone for personal gain. What I feel from you through our bond… it shows nothing but a strong and moral person who desires to do right by others and himself. I still trust you, Bilbo. With my life and the life of my people.”

Bilbo was stunned. This was not at all going how he had imagined. He was thrown off, and blurted out “You aren’t worried that I could have manipulated you into thinking that?”

Thorin furrowed his brow. “You might have. But then you would have had to work the same into the minds of the entire company. We all trust you, Bilbo. And while I know you to be quite gifted, I don’t think you have the power for _that.”_

Bilbo was overwhelmed at what he was hearing and the belief he could feel behind it, but he most needed to spell out one point:

“You still want the bond we have?”

“If that’s what you want, I will have it. My desire for a true bond with you remains the same as it has been for months. I, ah, while we are being completely honest… I feel I should tell you that I have… romantic aspirations as well.”

This focused Bilbo with an undignified snort. “Honesty isn’t needed for that, Thorin, of course I know about that.”

Thorin’s mouth fell open. “I was trying to… I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he snapped his jaw shut and then immediately opened it again to say “Truly, you knew?”

“Thorin, I’m a guide. We are bonded. Of course I knew! Were you really trying to hide it? It would be as if I tried to hide what I feel by carving hearts into every tree from here to Hobbiton!”

“... What do you feel?”

Bilbo blanched a bit before brusquely saying, “Well, apparently I’m broadcasting all my emotions directly to you, it must be in there. And really, Thorin, I gave you a kiss while you were imprisoned. Can you not figure it out?”

“A kiss on the forehead! As you were leaving! _While you were invisible!_ That could mean anything!”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t mean I’m disgusted by you,” Bilbo countered, before slyly adding “And from what I remember about you watching me with my sword at Beorn’s, I don’t think you find me disgusting either,” he smirked.

Thorin couldn’t help the blush that spread over his cheeks at that memory, and very much didn’t try to deny the hobbit’s words.

More gently this time, Bilbo said “I do appreciate you not overwhelming me with a bond and romantic propositions all at once, Thorin. I would have spoken up sooner, but there’s no time for kissing kings when you’re being eaten by giant spiders, is there? And I suppose I was trying to save myself some heartbreak. I was sure that eventually you wouldn’t want anything to do with me,” Bilbo worried Thorin’s fingers between his own.

“Are you sure you want a true bond with me, Thorin? I don’t think- they can’t be broken, can they? Bound in life and death, is what my mother said. You never know, you might find a true match for your talents among the dwarrow. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing with all this bond business. What will your people think of it? What if-”

“Sh, burglar,” Thorin caressed his cheek. “No, true bonds can’t be broken. It is for life, and when one dies, the other follows, so this is a decision to be sure of,” he said gravely. “But even if another true match for me did exist, I wouldn’t want them; I want you. What my people will think of you is that you are a great hero who saved their king countless times before he even had a kingdom to call his own... a king who wonders if you have time for kisses now that nothing is currently trying to eat us,” he added hopefully.

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiiiiiit's porn.

_"a king who wonders if you have time for kisses now that nothing is currently trying to eat us"_

 

There was simply no way to resist that kind of statement. Thorin had leaned over closer and closer to Bilbo throughout their conversation, so the guide merely had to tilt his head up to bring his lips within a breath of his bonded, before flicking his eyes up to the other’s gaze and closing the distance as he closed his eyes.

The first kiss was soft, sweet, and short. They broke apart for no longer than a second before coming together again, this time more sure. Thorin brought his hand down to cup Bilbo’s face and Bilbo reached up to thread a hand under Thorin’s hair on his head. Thorin’s lips parted in invitation, and his guide gladly accepted.

They marveled as the more contact they had, the more clearly they could feel their connection. They each wanted to be closer, to have more of it. Thorin boldly lifted Bilbo off the ground and onto his lap, so the hobbit was straddling his waist.

“Cheeky,” said the little guide, not even trying to hide his delight at such an action. He put both hands on his sentinel’s chest and leaned forward, throwing himself back into the kiss. When his air ran out, instead of pulling back he just moved his mouth southward, over a furred jaw and onto the neck below it.

He gave a sucking kiss to a spot below Thorin’s ear, and the sentinel let out an involuntary moan. Bilbo grinned against the skin and did it again, harder, as Thorin’s fingers reflexively grasped on his guide’s waist. Bilbo could feel their bond growing warm in his mind, encouraging the fire beginning in his belly. He moved his lips back to Thorin’s and placed both hands on his cheeks, thumbs stroking.

The kiss was slow and hungry, Bilbo doing his best to maintain a leash on his desires. His hands, light as feathers, moved down to Thorin’s collarbones before his mouth followed. Warm lips and hot breath brushed over this skin, pressing here and there when Bilbo could not stand the space between them. He pressed his smaller body closer and Thorin’s hands moved from his guide’s waist down to cup his round bottom.

The sentinel was in over his head. He was already nearly buried in his own pleasure and the same he could feel from Bilbo through the bond. The burglar had moved a hand back to his hair and was tugging now for better access to his neck, Thorin knew he only had moments left before words became much more difficult.

“I would lie with you tonight, if you would have me, Bilbo,” he gasped.

Warm lips left his throat and he looked down to see dark eyes locked on his own.

_“Yes.”_

There was no denying the fervency of that answer, and they both scrambled up to get on the bed. Thorin couldn’t stand to stop touching, though, and as soon as Bilbo was next to him, he sunk both of his hands in the short curls and descended on his mouth. As he crouched over Bilbo and cradled his head in his hands, Thorin noticed all over again how much smaller the guide was than himself: one of his hands could span across his guide’s belly nearly entirely. With Thorin on his knees, Bilbo could have stood up and they would have been close to the same height. Bilbo was nothing delicate; the amount of strength and bravery contained in this small packet of a guide was more than he would have once thought possible. However, the physical contrast between the two bonded made Thorin want to tuck his guide into his chest and hide him from danger. Tonight, however, he would settle for shutting out everything except the touch between them.

Bilbo’s clever fingers had been busy sneaking into Thorin’s shirt and sliding up the dwarf’s sides. Just as eager, Thorin found the hem of Bilbo’s shirt and lifted it right over his head before snatching his own off his back and tossing the two offending pieces of cloth to the floor.

The sentinel lay back on the pillows and pulled his guide after him until they were lying chest to chest. The hobbit’s weight barely registered under the dwarf’s muscle. Bilbo dropped kisses from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw and sucked a wandering path across his neck, feeling Thorin wind higher and higher. He reached that beautiful expanse of a chest and couldn't resist giving a nip. The bond sparked up and down in response to the spike of desire felt by both of them.

He lifted up a bit to see Thorin’s face and gave a roll of his hips. The satisfactory groan he received prompted him to do it again with a feral grin before scooting down to work on the fastening of the dwarven trousers. His fingers brushed against the cock that lay hidden, and he took a moment to tease a bit, stroking lightly and thrilling at the reactions he was pulling from his partner.

Thorin himself was breathless and close to squirming. His fingers danced over Bilbo’s shoulders and head, unwilling to break from the heated skin even for a moment. Every coy caress of his erection from the small hands was a revelation in the art of love making; not different than anything he was used to in technique, but in a completely different class because of who he was with.

Eventually Bilbo unfastened the trousers, and tugged them and the smallclothes off in one go. Here, he had to pause again to admire the poetry-worthy body of his sentinel. Broad shoulders, dark hair running in a line down his stomach from his chest, strong calves, those ridiculous and somehow adorable small toes; his eyes could not feast enough.

After a moment he was distracted, though, by the self consciousness beginning to shiver over Thorin.

“I suppose I don’t look anything like the hobbit standard of beauty, do I?” he laughed nervously.

“No,” agreed Bilbo. “You're much more to my tastes than that,” and he allowed a thick outpouring of his lust and frank appreciation of Thorin’s form to flow through him and into his bonded.

Thorin felt as if he could have happily drown in the sensation of being wanted. He sat up to capture Bilbo in a kiss and began to work at getting rid of the only remaining clothing separating the two. The second he had his partner as bare as himself, he gripped the other’s shoulders and rolled them over until Thorin was caging him. Supported on his elbows with his hands in Bilbo’s curls and his knees on either side of the burglar, Thorin reached down to tongue at one pointed ear.

Bilbo shivered as Thorin’s mouth found one of the hobbit’s biggest enjoyments, pleasure spiking directly from his ear to his cock. Desperately, he reached up to grasp at Thorin’s back. This brought the dwarfs body down into full contact with his own, and it was a revelation to them both.

Their bond was singing. Bilbo felt as if he were inside Thorin, feeling all his emotions directly himself instead of as a second hand receptor. More interestingly, he could feel everything Thorin was feeling physically, which is no small thing when it comes to a sentinel’s sense of touch. Bilbo moaned loudly and sank into the sensations.

Thorin at first felt disoriented, but not unfamiliar. This must be what Bilbo feels all the time, he realized. Complex, nuanced emotion filled every corner; feelings that seemed to take the form of vibrations and smells and sounds. It was like sitting in Bilbo’s soul. Their bodies entwined, he reverently took in everything he was feeling and came to an awareness:

“You love me.”

Bilbo looked up, unfocused, at his sentinel.

“What?”

“Bilbo Baggins, Master Burglar and Utmost Talented Guide, You Are In Love With Me.”

Thorin’s grin could have outshone the arkenstone with it’s brilliance.

For some reason, Bilbo felt mildly defensive.

“Well you are too! In love with me, I mean, not yourself,” he clarified.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been in love with you for a long time. And since our conversation I might have suspected the same about you, but now I can feel it. How long would it have taken you to tell me?”

“Is this really a conversation you want to have right now?” Bilbo asked exasperatedly and pushed a strong wave of his desire at his bondmate.

 _Perhaps not,_ thought the sentinel, and descended on that delicious mouth again.  

Not content with only tasting this part of his burglar, he moved down his throat to the nearly hairless chest. The bareness only made it easier to suck a nipple into his mouth and send Bilbo’s back arching into the touch. After devoting attention to one he moved to the other, while kneading his love’s soft, chubby belly with strong fingers. Gradually, he adored his way down until he reached the hard length that was demanding attention.

Attention is exactly what Thorin gave to it. Bilbo’s cock was entirely proportional to the rest of his body, enabling Thorin to easily take the whole of it into his mouth. The heaviness on his tongue felt like the height of decadence. He stroked long paths down every part of Bilbo his hands could reach while he licked around the head before bobbing down the length again and again. Through the bond Thorin could feel exactly which twists and caresses gave the most bliss, and he did his best to obey every silent commandment. He worshipped at the altar of his guide, and felt it appropriate.

Bilbo was nearly incoherent after just a few minutes. The combination of Thorin’s ministrations and feeling exactly how much enjoyment Thorin was getting out of attending to Bilbo was too much. The heat gathered low, threatening to spill over. His hands had tangled in Thorin’s hair, and he tried to free one to give warning, but the dwarf reached up to still his wrist and redoubled his efforts, determined to taste his bonded’s release.

Bilbo held on as long as he could, but his orgasm was an unstoppable force, rolling over his entire body and demanding he relinquish it’s due.

When he floated back to reality, he saw Thorin kneeling between his legs, squeezing the base of his own cock and panting heavily. This sentinel looked up and said “I felt it. I felt that as if it were my own.”

Bilbo got his breath back to say, “Hm, but it wasn’t. It seems a bit unfair to deprive me of the same experience, doesn’t it?” With an impish smile, he sat up to push Thorin onto his back, his head falling to the foot of the bed.

“Just- give me a moment ghivashel,” gasped Thorin.

“Bless you. Are you getting a cold?” concern colored Bilbo’s voice.

Thorin managed a laugh as his arousal pulled back from the edge.

“No, my guide. _Ghivashel_ is Khuzdul endearment. It means something like treasure of all treasures.”

Bilbo’s lips formed a perfect O has he realized he had heard it before.   
“You said that when I got you out of your cell too, didn’t you? Oh, Thorin,” he chuckled, “I really can’t believe that was you making an actual effort to hide your affections from me. Perhaps you should not try hiding things from me anymore- starting with this lovely dwarven tool here,” and he shooed his sentinels hand away.

Thorin’s cock was remarkably thick, at least to the hobbit’s eyes. He didn’t think it likely that he would be able to fit his mouth around it’s entirety, not without practice anyway, but no matter. He took it into both hands and licked at the slit.

Thorin grasped at the blanket on either side of his body and did his best to not whimper. Bilbo's tongue worked around the head before licking a stripe down his shaft and sucking one of his stones into that talented mouth. He rolled it around and scraped it ever-so-slightly with his teeth before moving to the next.

The sentinel was completely adrift in the sensations. He mindlessly obeyed when his guide pressed his legs farther back and apart. A warm, wet tongue slid down from behind his stones to press against his hole and a loud moan rumbled up his throat. Bilbo let out a hard breath against the hot skin, momentarily distracted by feeling exactly how Thorin was experiencing this particular care. His sentinel’s sensitized skin caught every single drag, pull and slide of the tongue. He pushed at one of Thorin’s hips, encouraging him to turn over.

“That’s it darling, flip over on your knees for me,” he softly murmured, knowing Thorin was too far gone to do anything but comply. He spread the firm cheeks before him and laved at the pink rosette, giving gentle suction before darting his tongue inside.

 _“Bilbo!_ I can’t- please-” He let out a string of Khuzdul that ended in a moan as his hand reached to pull at himself. Before he could get there, Bilbo batted his hand away and gripped the cock that was so thick his small hand couldn’t quite get around it. He thrust his tongue in time with his hand, pushing inside further and further until he had reached his limit. The incredible heat suddenly constricted and his sentinel to reached his climax beneath him. As the stripes of seed painted the bedcovers, Bilbo felt what Thorin must have experienced earlier: a throb of euphoria that tolled like a bell through the bond and into his mind.

Thorin wasn’t even sure of when the mind bending pleasure had passed into it’s apex; he only knew now of bone deep satisfaction and a warm small body clung to his side. He turned his head and saw his burglar dozing slightly. He shifted to wrap him up in his arms and felt a cooling wet patch beneath him.

Bilbo felt his distaste and gave a small giggle.

“I’ll go fetch a cloth if you’ll get another blanket from the cabinet.”

Thorin nodded his assent, and when they reconvened at the head of the bed, Bilbo took care to clean his bondmate and his bondmate cocooned them both in as many blankets as were available. It was quiet and peaceful as Thorin wrapped Bilbo in his arms and twined their legs together.

“I do love you,” whispered Bilbo.

“Aye?” asked Thorin quietly.

“Aye.”

“I love you too, my guide.”

The quiet reigned again, and soon after Bilbo felt Thorin fall into a deep sleep.

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Bilbo listened to Thorin sleep, but found he had decisions to make, and couldn’t sleep quite yet.

Thorin trusted him. Thorin had admitted he loves him. Thorin really wanted a true bond with him.  

Could Bilbo say all the same in return?

He thought he certainly trusted Thorin. After all, he had followed him halfway across Middle-Earth on what he had originally considered a hopeless venture. He’d seen the intense devotion Thorin had for his people and those he considered friends. Thorin would rather cut off his own hand than betray his word.

Bilbo was definitely in love with his dwarf, and what was more he simply loved him. Nearly everything about him, from his funny little toes to his inability to contain his feelings. Bilbo wasn’t sure when it had happened; perhaps in the forest when Thorin had lulled him to sleep with his heartbeat, or at Beorn’s while they took their first tentative steps into their bond. Maybe it had been in Bag End the very first time Bilbo had felt the depth of emotion Thorin carried. Whatever the case, that love was a bare foundation now, ready to support anything they chose to build on it.

But did Bilbo want a true bond? He hadn’t thought he wanted any kind of bond at all after his first. This time, however, had been as different from his last as it was possible to be. He felt supported by his match, not contained. He knew that if he wanted to leave, Thorin would be devastated, but still help him go.

Bilbo didn’t want to leave. Not ever. He wanted to wake up to Thorin tomorrow morning and the next. He wanted to see Thorin triumphant in his return home. He wanted to someday take him back to Bag End and walk down the narrow lanes with him. He wanted to share adventures and quiet nights and heated touches. He wanted to feel all the things his sentinel felt so he could share in the joy and relieve the pain. He realized he wanted _everything._

And then he remembered that Thorin was going to be a king.

He shook his partner awake.

“Thorin! _Thorin!”_

The sentinel immediately awoke and bounced up, pushing his guide behind him and down into the pillows.   
“Where is my sword?!”

Voice muffled by the bed he had been shoved into, Bilbo yelped “Who cares? When we get married, what will that make me, Thorin?!”

Still looking around for the danger, Thorin snapped back “My husband! Wait, _“when”_ we get married? -Are we being attacked?”

“Nonono, if we take back Erebor, you’ll be the king. As your husband, that would give me some kind of royal… responsibility or something, wouldn’t it?”

“So we’re not being attacked. Not by anything other than your overactive sense of worry,” Thorin sighed.

Bilbo sat up and glared at his love. Thorin gathered his small bundle of irritation in his arms and said, “First things first: Don’t ever wake up a soldier that way, it’s dangerous. If I had a weapon, I could have hurt you Bilbo.” He looked seriously down at the hobbit’s big eyes and saw a grudging nod of understanding. “Second, I really need this clarified: “when” we get married?”

Bilbo hesitantly nodded again, deciding to just wait for a reaction. He got it in the form of a huge smile and several tender kisses. Before the kisses could turn into something else, he pulled back and anxiously asked “I would be though, wouldn’t I? Consort or, is it something different for dwarves?”

Thorin nuzzled into Bilbo’s curls and said “It would make you my consort, yes. The responsibilities would not need to be onerous; I’m sure Balin would make your workload as light as possible.”

Bilbo waved a hand, dismissing that train of thought. “I’m not worried about work, Thorin. But consort.. what if I’m terrible at it? What if I let your people down? I’ve never even considered…” He trailed off in a fretful mumble.

“Amrâlimê, love, if we were married, then they would be _our_ people. We would support each other in serving the kingdom, the same way we support each other in our bond. You could not let down our people unless I let down our people; something Dwalin has assured me that he would prevent by punching sense into me.” He gave a crooked smile.

Bilbo began to relax a bit. He was still worried about it, but Thorin was rubbing soothing circles on his bare back; something he couldn’t resist responding to. As his shoulders slumped a bit, he could feel Thorin working his way up to a question, and waited patiently for him to get there.

“...Does this mean you’re considering a true bond with me?”

“I actually think I’m done considering,” said Bilbo slowly. “Somehow you’re already woven into the future I see for myself. I can’t imagine a time when I would bear not being tied to you.” He firmly nodded to himself and looked up at Thorin, whose eyes were shining.

The sentinel cupped his guide’s face and brought it to his own. Bilbo raised his hands to cover Thorin’s and they kissed. It was a simple affair, really. The decision had been made by both parts, and they each felt a tug behind their sternum. Bilbo gasped as Thorin let out a sharp exhale, and their bond changed. Bilbo felt the thick ties that had held them together before dissolve and spread into a kind of cloud, enveloping them both. The natural aura of each of them swirled around each other, dancing and singing. Thorin felt his already heightened senses begin to pick up more information, especially in regards to Bilbo. He knew where every inch of his bonded sat. He knew the pace of his heartbeat and how his breathing had just stuttered. He could have given you the exact placement of every curl on his head.

“Yavanna,” breathed Bilbo. They were both a bit overwhelmed, and lay back together to stare at the ceiling.

“Do you see this?” asked Bilbo after a moment, gesturing to the air around them.

Thorin shook his head. “Is it your empathy?”

Bilbo thought for a moment, and then tried to open his senses more in the direction of Thorin, inviting him to come in and see what Bilbo could see.

“Oh! Oh, I see it,” said his sentinel.

Bilbo was amazed at the ease, and hoped that everything about this new adventure would be so intuitive. They watched together as cool mists of gold and silver twirled around each other before turning into harmonies of the purest tone, and then into bouncing beads of light, and so on and so on until the bonded pair fell asleep.

 


	32. Chapter 32

The next morning during breakfast Balin looked them both over, and with a twinkle in his eye offered his congratulations.

“Thank you!” Thorin loudly replied with a wide smile.

Balin smirked, and pulled out a battered, nearly moldy looking roll of paper.

“We’ll be needing to change the contract now, won’t we?”

Bilbo took the paper from him, and incredibly, it _was_ his contract; the very same one he had signed in Bag End months ago.

“How did you save this from the goblin tunnels? And all the other nonsense we’ve been through?” he asked incredulously.

“A tradesman never reveals his secrets,” Balin said faux-mysteriously.

Dwalin cut in “That means yer better off not knowin’ where he hid it-” and Balin whapped him on the head, causing him to choke a bit on his sausage.  

While Nori patted his bonded’s back, Bilbo asked “Why do we need to change the contract?”

Before Balin could answer, Thorin quickly said “We could just tear it up, Bilbo. You needn’t enter the mountain, love; we could draw lots to decide who goes in to scout.”

Bilbo raised both eyebrows. “Then why were you looking for a burglar in the first place?”

Balin sighed exasperatedly and spoke over Thorin’s lack of an answer.

“His Highness is merely experiencing common sentinel anxiety; an instinct to protect bonded guides from any kind of danger. If he would take a moment to think about things, I’m sure it would pass.”

“Not unless Smaug has somehow managed to die under the weight of his own greed,” muttered Thorin, before pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s curls and getting up from the table.

“We do need a burglar; and you in particular as our burglar,” said Balin. “The changes I was speaking of are simply regarding the dwarven laws around true bonds. Under our law, your assets are considered combined from the moment you are bound. So, while the current contract rewards one fourteenth share of the treasure to you, with a fourteenth share and the right to rule going to Thorin, it should read one seventh of the treasure and the right to rule to be rewarded to both of you. It’s a minor change, but one that may save us headaches in the future if anyone decides to kick up a fuss about the place of the king’s newly bonded.”

Bilbo felt his uneasiness from the night before resurface. “Do you think it likely that someone will kick up a fuss?”

“No, not likely at all. Dwarves see bonds, particularly rare true bonds, to be a gift from Mahal. To act against one in any way, from the inside or outside of one, is despicable and in some cases punishable by law. No, most likely the entire kingdom will coo and fawn over their king being gifted with such a bond partner, but it’s always better to be prepared. There’s all types in the world, after all,” the white haired guide shook his head.

Bilbo signed the corrected contract and went to find Thorin. It only took a moment for him to realize he already knew which direction to go. True bonds apparently come with a sentinel locator, he thought. Handy.

Thorin was speaking to the dock men about when boats would be ready to carry them across the lake. Bilbo stuck his hands in his pockets and listened to the water slap against the wood of the dock while he waited for him to finish. Once those beautiful blue eyes were focused on him again, Bilbo asked “Do we need to talk about your reluctance for me to do the specific job I’ve traveled months to do?”

Thorin frowned. “No. I’m reluctant for you to enter a mountain with a live dragon, alone. I think my reasons for that are fairly obvious.”

Bilbo sighed, chewing his lip. “Yes, but someone has to do it, don’t they? And I am better suited than the others, _and_ I’ve already agreed.”

“Which is why I’ve not actually argued with you about this. It is your right and you are qualified for the job, as much as one can be anyway,” Thorin sharpened his gaze into Bilbo’s eyes. “This is not about capability, Bilbo. I admire you more than anyone else in Middle-Earth. If there is one who can walk into Smaug’s lair and walk back out with the arkenstone, it will be you.”

Bilbo’s heart filled with warmth at his praise.

“There is simply a part of me that craves your protection. It screams for the destruction of anything that might cause you harm.”

The hobbit reached out to take a calloused hand in his own. He couldn’t tell his sentinel that everything would be alright; frankly it was a miracle they had both stayed alive thus far and they hadn’t even faced the dragon yet. However, he could remind him of why the risks were worth it.

“We’re doing this to give our people a home, Thorin.”

“Our people,” echoed the royal, before bending down to gently kiss his bonded.

 

“Aw, look Fíli! How sweet. Remember when our bond was so young?”

“Ah, yes, the infancy days of a true bond. So precious. So innocent!”

Thorin released Bilbo’s mouth with a sigh and leaned his forehead against the burglar’s without opening his eyes.

“What. Do you want.” he asked flatly.

“We just came to offer our congratulations Uncle,” answered Fíli.

“And to see if you want to start a secret club! ‘True Bonds Only!’ We could meet on Tuesdays to talk about bondy things and eat those biscuits Bilbo had in the jar at the back of his pantry,” added Kíli.

“You ate those?” Bilbo turned his head, frowning. “I told Hamfast he could have those.”

“Dwalin was the one who found them,” Kíli was quick to incriminate.

Fíli elbowed his brother and said “We genuinely did want to tell you two that if you’d like to talk about your bond, then please find us. There aren’t many that share in this experience and sometimes it just makes you feel… different. Uncle Thorin, you know we’ve only been bonded a year and some, but we might have answers to questions, if you have them.”

Thorin was touched by his nephews thoughtfulness, and nodded before clearing his throat and saying “The boats will be ready in an hour. We should finish gathering supplies.”

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

Bilbo was anxious about the boat ride. Hobbits don’t do well in water, and his last experience in it hadn’t left him eager for a repeat. He started the ride gripping Thorin’s hand tightly and only got tighter and tighter, until his sentinel snuck a hand up his shirt to rub circles on his lower back the way he had the night before. Bilbo felt a little better after that, and distracted himself by testing what had changed after last night’s transformation in the bond.

His empathy was more sensitive when he allowed it to range. He thought his gifts felt… firmer. More stable, as if he could affect an entire room at once and not break a sweat. The bond still had that cloud-like feeling, containing them as a single entity rather than tying them together.

He regarded Thorin, wondering once again at how clearly he could feel him. It was different now; as if he was looking out from Thorin’s eyes at the same time he was looking into them. He felt a brush against his mind and realized Thorin was doing the same thing he was. They were each half in themselves and half in the other, moods coming into harmony as Bilbo accepted Thorin’s calm and Thorin soothed Bilbo’s anxiety.

They passed the lake this way and reached shore by the afternoon. Even as they loaded up the ponies that had been sent ahead, the royal and the burglar kept the touch of their minds together.

It took the rest of the day to cross the desolated lands between the remains of Dale and the Lonely Mountain. They camped that night at the base, and as the morning of Durin’s Day rose, the set off in search of the hidden door.

They found it, and spent fruitless hours trying to find the keyhole. They tried inspecting the stone, chanting bits of spells, and good old fashioned kicking the door. Nothing worked, and frustrations were running high before a thrush appeared.

It hopped down with a snail in it’s mouth, and all the dwarves held their breath. Bilbo felt the anticipation and belatedly remembered the prophecy on the map that had been discovered way back in Rivendell. The bird knocked the snail against the rock of the mountain, tap tap tap, and a flake of stone came off revealing the keyhole. The thrush bounced away towards the ponies to eat it’s prize as the dwarves yelled “Get the key! Get the key!” Thorin grabbed the key from where he wore it around his neck and shoved it into the hole. A loud crack sounded, and the door opened.

As the company cheered and nearly smothered Bilbo with their excitement, Thorin bent down and murmured to the thrush, who cocked it’s head and took off. Thorin straightened and saw Bilbo staring at him.

“There used to be ravens here who spoke the common tongue. They would carry messages for us. I don’t know if any are still alive, but if there are then it will be the fastest way to send word once we have the arkenstone.”

“How do you know that wasn’t just a regular bird whose only interest is the snail it just ate?” Bilbo asked curiously.

Thorin shrugged. “I don’t. It’s been a long time; but perhaps if there are any ravens left, that thrush will carry word and they will find us.”

They both stood in front of the door, knowing what came next.

“Will you wear your ring?” Thorin asked quietly.

“I had planned on it, yes,” answered Bilbo.

“We could still send someone else.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

Bilbo reached up on the balls of his feet to pull Thorin’s forehead down to his own, and then slipped on the ring.

That strange muteness came back. Bilbo felt bile rise in his throat and had to force back panic back when he could no longer feel the wrappings of the true bond. Thorin’s home in his mind was suddenly empty, and the loss of his bonded’s feelings felt like having a limb disappear. He kept the contact with Thorin’s forehead as they both breathed deeply. When Bilbo was sure he wasn’t about to retch, he brushed a kiss across Thorin’s lips and walked through the door.

 

There was only one tunnel from the door, so the burglar followed it down. As all sign of the door above vanished, the stink of the dragon became apparent. Next he heard a rumbling snore, and then finally an orange glow began to light the tunnel. He silently crept along to the end.

A vast room opened before him. There lay Smaug. The great red-gold dragon was sleeping, tendrils of smoke seeping from his nostrils. Bilbo slipped out onto a platform and took in the colossal amount of wealth in the room. Gold and jewels _everywhere!_ The dwarves had spoken of the great treasures of King Thrór, but somehow he had never quite grasped just how much there really was. The gold alone could have filled Bag End a thousand times over! As he was gazing around, a light caught his eye: a large stone that seemed to produce light rather than simply reflecting it.

The arkenstone.

The burglar’s goal, a mere meter from the platform.

He honestly could not believe his luck. It was almost enough to make him question it, but not quite.

He kneeled on the platform and reached out, but there was no way he could get at it without stepping onto the sea of gold, which would surely shift the moment he set foot on it.

He pinched his lips and considered. There was nothing else for it: They really couldn’t hope to slay the dragon without help from Dain’s army, and Dain’s army wouldn’t come unless Thorin held the arkenstone in hand. The dragon was asleep now, and more likely to wake up the longer they camped on his doorstep. He would just have to step lightly and hope he didn’t make too much noise.

One furry toe stepped onto the expanse, and an avalanche of coins skittered below him.

_Fuck._

He dashed the single step he needed and snatched the arkenstone, tucking it inside his coat where it became invisible with the rest of him. Leaping back onto the platform that lead to the tunnel, he was ready to make a break for it when he heard it.

“I may not see you, but I can smell you burglar.”

Bilbo froze.

“Will you not introduce yourself? It is a policy of mine to know anyone who is stealing from me. Particularly something as precious as the arkenstone.”

The burglar held his breath and slowly looked over his shoulder. Smaug lay as before, but with a single eye open. He watched as the great worm stretched up, taller than Bilbo would have believed possible, and sat with his tail curled around him like a cat.

“There is only one person who would risk coming here to steal that particular jewel, when there are so many others more easily taken. You come for Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

Bilbo was trying to make his feet move, but he was hypnotized. Listening to the dragon’s words felt more important than anything else.

“Go ahead and take it. Watch it poison his heart the way it did his grandfather’s. You may get the chance to watch the madness in action before I find you both and kill you,” and with that the dragon spread his wings and flew towards the front gates of the mountain.

With the spell broken, Bilbo sprinted back up the tunnel, faster than his hobbit self would have thought possible. He broke through the door, ripped off the ring and yelled “GET INSIDE! Smaug is on the move!”

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

As the company frantically gathered their ponies and shoved them inside the door, Smaug was flying out of the mountain. He knew of the back door, of course, and regretted not doing something to block it up before now. It was the only way the burglar could have gotten in.   
He saw the door and found it infuriatingly closed. Angrily he rammed against it again and again, trying to get it open to reach the pests inside. When he realized he could not, he settled for ensuring that they would not be able to open it from the inside either. He roughly crashed against the mountain, scraping the stone beyond recognition. Finally satisfied, he perched on the side of his home before considering.

He had left the small town of men alone for too long. It seemed they could use a reminder of who lived in the mountain and what they should allow to travel through their pestilence-ridden hamlet. He spread his wings and flew.

 

Inside the mountain torches were quickly lit, and the company hurried down to the treasure hall. All except Bilbo stopped once they saw the gold, but the burglar tugged on his sentinel’s hand, reminding him of what they were running from.

Thorin startled, and dragged himself from the lure of the gold to yell “Follow me!”

They ran up through a complicated series of stairs to pop out on the battlements. The company ducked down behind the short wall to peek over and watch Smaug’s assault on the mountain.

Thorin’s attention quickly shifted to Bilbo though, and he ran his hands over his burglar, checking for injury. “Are you hurt?! What happened? I thought he would be asleep-”

Bilbo shook his head before switching to nodding. “No I’m not hurt, yes he was asleep.”

His small hands reached inside his coat to dig for their treasure. “The arkenstone was just sitting there, at the bottom of the stair, but I had to step on the gold to reach it and I woke him up,” explained Bilbo regretfully. His hands finally got a firm grasp on the stone, and he pulled it out before presenting it in cupped hands.

The company seemed to stop breathing as one. They all stared at the jewel in silent reverence, and Bilbo began to be uncomfortable. He mentally reached out to Thorin for comfort in this strange moment, but what he found only made him more scared.

Instead of his normal complex, nuanced swirl of intense emotion, Thorin was filled with only one thing: Possession. He reached for the arkenstone, but Bilbo pulled it back slightly, suddenly fearful that Smaug may have spoken truth.

Anger struck through his sentinel and rang into Bilbo.Thorin reached out to grab the stone but as he raised his hand, Bilbo flinched and dropped the stone into his lap, out of sight.

The sentinel suddenly surfaced from his anger. It felt like being shaken awake. He recoiled from the stone, when suddenly the sound of feathers descended on them.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the mountain,” croaked a very old raven. Thorin was momentarily confused, but latched his attention onto the bird who continued to speak.   
“I am Roäc, the last of the messenger ravens of old. I see you have returned and already repossessed the right to rule, although you have also loosed the dragon from his mountain.”

“We need your assistance!” said Thorin desperately. “Our cousins in the Iron Hills will come help slay the dragon if you can carry a message to them.”

“I am too old to make such a journey, but if you will pen a letter then my grandson will carry it. You must be quick; it will not take long for Smaug to lay waste if he chooses.”

Before he could ask, Ori shoved a pen and paper into his hands, and Thorin hurriedly scrawled out his possession of the arkenstone and their need for assistance.

While this was going on, Bilbo shakily picked up the forsaken jewel and tucked it back in his coat. He moved away from Thorin, putting Balin and Fíli between them. Fíli mouthed at Bilbo “What was that?” and Balin looked gravely at his king.

The raven took off with the letter, and the dwarves watched as Smaug stopped his battering against the mountain. With horror, they saw him rise up and fly towards Lake-town.

“No,” whispered Nori.

They were all paralyzed as the great beast reached the town in minutes and set everything ablaze.   
“We have to go!” yelled Kíli.

“We’ll never make it in time to help,” said Glóin.

“We’re the ones who woke the beast. We must go-,” declared Thorin, but he was cut off with an incredible screech that spiked across the desolation. They all turned to watch Smaug hang in the air for a moment before plunging into the lake.

Stunned silence permeated before a hugely relieved wave broke through them.

“They did it!” “They killed him!” “How did they do it?” “Who do you suppose is responsible?” “Certainly not the Master,” and variations thereof were repeated by every member of the company. They slowly made their way back into the mountain in a daze.

Bilbo was still keeping several dwarves between him and Thorin. When they reached the great front hall of the kingdom, Thorin turned and said “Balin, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

Balin raised both eyebrows and said “I think Bilbo ought to be a part of this conversation too, don’t you lad?”

The shame and confusion Thorin felt at his moment of weakness was all-encompassing. He didn’t think he could look his guide in the eye, but he desperately wished for his presence.

“Please, if you, Bilbo and Fíli would come with me. Everyone else, set up a camp here.”

The four of them walked away from the curious glances and into a more private area.

Bilbo wanted nothing more than to go to Thorin and have the comfort they had shared before he entered the mountain, but he had to be sure that whatever had happened earlier had passed.

When the small guide looked up, he saw tears in his sentinel’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry amrâlimê.”

“Smaug said the stone would drive you to madness like your grandfather,” Bilbo stated baldly. “He said it would poison your heart.”

“It seems he was right.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure that was exactly the case, but asked “What do we do?”

Here, Balin took over. “I think you should hide it, Bilbo. You said your ring stops up your gifts, correct? Put on the ring to block out Thorin and find a place to hide the arkenstone. When we need to present it to Dain you can dig it out, but in the meantime keeping it out of Thorin’s sight might be enough to hold back whatever curse sits on it.”

Thorin shook his head and began pacing. “Who’s to say it is cursed? We don’t know that, perhaps there’s just something about it that brings out the madness in my line. There was no dragon curse when Thrór succumbed to the stone. I’m going to leave the mountain. I can’t be trusted near it. I- You can’t trust me, Bilbo.”

Despair filled the dwarf as he realized he was not fit to rule. He was not a fit bondmate for his precious guide; he had imprisoned him in a true bond. How could he have ever thought he would be suitable for either of those things-

“Thorin, _stop it.”_ said Bilbo sharply. “You two, watch him until I get back.” He put the damned ring back on and slipped out of the room.

The burglar quickly found a loose rock under a staircase, and tucked the arkenstone behind it. To mark it he stacked three rocks on top of each other in a way that would only be obvious to him, and hurried back to his sentinel. Once inside the room, he took off the ring, pleading with Yavanna that he would never have to wear the thing again, and strode right up to Thorin.

The hobbit cupped the face of the dwarf. “Thank you Balin and Fíli. I’d like to be alone with my sentinel now.”

Balin looked as if he had more to say, but Fíli put a hand on his arm and guided him out.

“Thorin, love, listen to me. Do you trust me?” He waited for Thorin to nod before continuing. “Then trust me when I say that whoever that was that scared me on the battlements wasn’t you. I don’t doubt that some kind of dragon curse sits upon that stone, probably placed by Smaug for an instance such as this. It may have reduced you to your worst traits, but you are so much more than that.”

“If it’s a curse, why didn’t it affect everyone else the same?” argued Thorin.

Bilbo caressed his bonded’s face, stroking his cheekbones and down his nose. “If I had to guess, it might be because it was placed specifically for you. Perhaps the others weren’t in close enough proximity to the stone. Or it could be that due to your family history, you are slightly more susceptible to it. That doesn’t mean you should throw away your kingdom, it simply means we need to get Gandalf in here to remove whatever nonsense Smaug left for us.”

He pulled his sentinel down to sit on the floor and scooted into his lap. He invaded Thorin’s being with peace and comfort, bringing much needed calm to them both.

“I reminded you of that bastard of a sentinel,” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo paused before answering.

“Donyc often seemed to be made of only the worst traits found in men, yes; but he didn’t need a curse to make him so. You are nothing like him, Thorin, and I know it.”

Fíli suddenly dashed back into the quiet room, interrupting their small peace.

“I don’t think it’s just the arkenstone that’s cursed,” he gasped.

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

Balin, Nori, and Óin stood at the edge of the treasure room with the three who had just arrived, looking a little sick. Dwalin, Kíli, Bifur, and Dori were half buried in gold, picking it up and letting it slide through their fingers, watching rapturously. Bofur, Bombur, Ori and Glóin did not seem quite so sunk into whatever was affecting them, but they watched the treasure shift among the others, enamoured. The feelings surrounding all those affected were clumsy, singular things. Greed and desire for possession pervaded and left no room for anything else.

Now that he wasn’t faced with a dragon or running away from one, Bilbo felt repelled by the room. The gold was repugnant, like a meat pie sitting in the sun for too long. It looked fine, but you just knew it would make you violently ill. Bilbo looked over the other guides and noted that they felt the same. Then he looked at Thorin, who was just moving to take a step into the piles of gold.

The burglar snatched the king’s wrist and pulled him back. Thorin looked at him as though through a fog before glancing back at the gold and then reeling back out of the room.

The guides followed him out, giving him a moment to compose himself. As he straightened, he looked shrewdly at the five around him.

“You don’t feel it, do you?” he addressed the group.

Óin shook his head. “It’s a bit of an interesting study on the differences of guides and sentinels, isn’t it?” he said conversationally.

Balin blew out a breath of vexation at the casualness of such a statement before commanding “We can’t stay here!”

“We can’t leave, either,” rebutted Thorin. He seemed to come to a conclusion and frowned. “Nori, Óin, go get all but 5 of the ponies ready. If you are willing, you guides will stay here to guard the mountain. Close the gate, keep watch from the battlements and send a raven if anyone comes near.”

“Where will you take everyone else?” asked Bilbo as Nori and Óin left.

“Lake-town, or Dale I suppose, since I’m sure Lake-town is burning to nothing,” he said solemnly. “We need to speak with whoever brought down the dragon and offer whatever assistance we can to rebuild the town. Mostly we just need to get everyone away from these-” he let out a string of what was no doubt foul Khuzdul “-curses. I can’t go back into that room. Can the three of you get the rest of them out?”

 

It turned out not to be very hard to get the others away from the gold; they merely told them there was more treasure in another room. Once everyone was clear of the muddling gold, they became eager to get away, although the sentinels were reluctant to leave behind their guides.

“How can we? We’re basically leavin’ ‘em here defenseless, Thorin!” Dwalin stated, arms crossed.

“Don’t let Nori hear you saying that,” answered Thorin.

“Too late,” came in Nori, lightly slapping the back of Dwalin’s head so it was more of a caress than anything else.

“Yeh know what I mean,” Dwalin growled as he pulled Nori in close. “Our guides could lay low an army if they needed to,” he directed at Thorin, “but we’re all weaker without our partners. Yeh don’ even know how Bilbo’ll react, yeh haven’t been separated since ye bonded. I hear weird things can happen in a true bond,” he finished ominously.

Thorin clenched his fists. “I am open to suggestions,” he said shortly. When none arose, he barked “Then kindly go pack your damn bags.”

 

It was dawn by the time they said their farewells at the gate. “When Dain’s people come, we’ll send out messengers to find Gandalf and guards to man Erebor. I’ll send for you then,” assured Thorin.

“I’m not a piece of luggage, Thorin, you can’t ‘send for me’ like a parcel,” Bilbo said waspishly. He was tired and hungry and unhappy to see Thorin leaving after the night they had had.

“I apologize, ulkhudûh.” He really was colored with guilt, which in turn made Bilbo feel guilty for snapping over something so dumb.

“Oh it doesn’t matter. Just- be safe, alright?” Bilbo felt as if he were filled with foreboding; although for what he couldn’t imagine. Smaug was dead, after all. He supposed it was just the culmination of events leaving him feeling this way.

“I will if you will, my guide,” said the king. “Please care for yourself during our separation; Óin has medicines for headaches and anything else that might arise-”

“I’m sure he does,” said Bilbo soothingly, wondering why Thorin was choosing now to worry over possible headaches. “Now kiss me and get yourselves away from these vile curses.”

Bilbo, expecting a quick peck goodbye, was surprised at with a kiss that would have been enough to violate public decency laws in the Shire, but he certainly didn't complain. Then together, the guides watched their friends and lovers ride away.

When the ponies became to small to see, Bilbo sighed and turned to the other four. “I faced down a dragon last night,” he declared. “One of you can take the first watch.”

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some vomiting and a panic attack in this chapter!

The traveling members of the company trekked around the snow and ash dusted shore, where they could see men gathering in the old shell of Dale. As they approached the crowd, they were met almost immediately by Bard.

“Bard,” stoically greeted Thorin, “Which of your town’s archers is responsible for bringing down Smaug? We would like to speak with them.”

“Then you’re in luck,” answered Bard dryly. “I was the one who shot the arrow that killed the dragon you woke after I warned you not to enter the mountain.”

Eight dwarves looked around uncomfortably while Thorin gravely looked Bard in the eye. “We owe you much; for killing the dragon and in reparation for waking him in the first place. While I do not regret entering the mountain to reclaim my people’s home, it was not our intention to send the blight down to you.”

Bard looked as if he had things he could have said about “intentions”, but they were interrupted by a young runner.

“King Bard! Another three families have been found, two with nursing babes, but there’s no more room in the heated tents.”

“The masons were checking old buildings; if any have been found to have sound structure then put the families in there. It will be warmer inside walls even without a stove.”

After the runner darted away, Thorin raised his eyebrows.

“King Bard?”

The man looked down at the dwarf grimly. “Apparently I’ve been unanimously elected to the position without my permission. Did you come down here to offer condolences or are you here to help? We could surely use our promised ‘share in the wealth of the mountain’ to rebuild.”

Thorin grimaced, and Bard’s eyes narrowed.

“The worm left a curse on the treasure. It… clouds judgement and rips away the merit of a person,” Thorin tried to shove away the memory of the arkenstone. “A wizard should be able to remove it. If we can find Gandalf the Grey, he may help. In the meantime, I have already sent for an army of my cousin’s, when I still thought we had a dragon to fight. After they arrive, some may be willing to help rebuild Dale. The nine of us will certainly do as much as we can until then.”

Bard eyed them, pacified a small amount but still wary. “Why is it nine of you? Where is the rest of your company?”

“It would seem that guides are not affected by the curse, except to be repulsed. We left our bonded to guard the mountain.”

Bard wryly raised his eyebrows. “Do you think us to be in a position to be invading Erebor?”

“It’s not Men I’m worried about,” answered Thorin ominously before abruptly changing the subject. “You have need of stoves? Several of us have worked as smiths. The miners can evaluate stability of any old dwellings where you may be able to house your people. Tell us what you need most, and we will do what we can to deliver.” The two new kings spoke together and soon the dwarves were among the men, helping restore what the dragon had taken from them both.

 

Two mornings later, inside the mountain, Bilbo woke with a heave. He dashed to the side of the hall and emptied his stomach onto a pile of rubble before sitting down against a column and clutching his head.

It was a headache the likes of which he’d never experienced, not even after drinking the Gamgee’s homebrew as a tween. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, too afraid of making things worse to risk the sound of a moan.

A few minutes later, Fíli sprinted to the same spot over the rubble to play copycat.

When he had finished, he came to sit next to Bilbo silently, pale and sweating. They sat there as brothers in misery for what could have been a few minutes or an hour. Eventually Óin found them and soothingly convinced them to take a few different tinctures before leaving them to rest. Slowly, they both found relief and began to settle.

“I hate this,” said Fíli when he finally felt able to speak.

“Mm. Illness is never a walk round the meadow, to be sure. Do you think it’s a side effect of the cursed treasure?” wondered Bilbo as he shivered slightly.

“What? No, of course not. Oh- I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you?” said Fíli.

Bilbo opened his eyes suspiciously. “Know what?”

“This is a common reaction to the absence of a bond partner. Well, I suppose the severity we’re experiencing isn’t common. It varies between types and intensity of bonds. For instance Óin and Bifur only have a bond of convenience, so they’re unlikely to be ill at all. Balin and Nori probably have another 12 hours or more before they feel poorly, and it probably won’t be as severe as what we’ve just been through.” He patted Bilbo on the shoulder as the hobbit took all this in. He’d never even heard of such a thing; suddenly Thorin’s words at the gate made sense.

“Do the sentinels become ill too?”

Fíli nodded and said “I think it’s different for them, but it’s no festival either. Kíli described it as ‘the stomach flu gift wrapped inside a panic attack.’”

Sympathy for Thorin ached through Bilbo, and he hoped it wasn’t too awful.

“We’ll suffer for a few hours before it recedes. Then we’ll get another day or two until it comes back. It’s not fun, but I suppose it could be worse.”

“Could it?”

Fíli shrugged.

“We could be completely non-functioning and wishing for death.”

He clapped Bilbo’s shoulder again and stumbled away to sleep off the remaining sickness.

 

Bilbo thought fresh air would do him some good. He gingerly made his way up to the battlements where Nori was on watch. The star haired guide took one look at the hobbit and clucked in sympathy. “I suppose that means I’ve got until tonight or tomorrow morning ‘fore I’m hit. How’s your head?”

Bilbo grunted and had to take a moment after the climb. When he had himself back under control, he answered “Óin gave me some things that are helping. I had no idea this was a consequence of bonding. I can’t say I approve”

Nori snickered and turned to face Bilbo more completely. “They say it gets worse the more complete the bond, so I daresay you and the king’ll be sharing in some fair misery. Probably not exactly what the stories say though.”

“Oh please, what do the stories say?” asked Bilbo.

“The younger ones like to spread all kinds of tales about what happens in a true bond. One of the better ones I heard said that if the gifted in a true bond were separated for longer than an hour, they’d start speaking in tongues and seizing on the ground until they were reunited.”

Bilbo nearly snorted. “Luckily it’s not quite that bad, at least on my end.” He looked up toward the lake, thinking about his sentinel. That’s when he noticed the army marching outside of Dale.

“Nori! Who’s that? Is that Dain’s army?”

Nori quickly turned around, squinting into the distance. “Can’t be, not yet… it’s gotta be those pointy eared leaf eaters.”

Bilbo gaped at the sight, wondering what on earth was going to happen and where he should be when it did.

 

Down in Dale, Thorin closed his eyes and clutched a bucket between his knees. He was taking deep breaths and reminding himself that Bilbo was perfectly safe. Safer, in fact, than if Thorin were in the mountain with him. Nothing was going to happen.

These facts didn’t seem to matter to his anxiety.

He threw up again, not caring for it any more than he did the first 4 times. However, this time he finally felt the panic and nausea start to recede after. He took more deep breaths and wondered how Kíli was doing. He’d seen his nephew looking twitchy and a little green an hour ago and had known that he wouldn’t be far behind.

Thorin hadn’t anticipated the intensity of the symptoms of separation. The stomach cramps were worse than he had experienced in years. He knew the guides more commonly had headaches that lasted longer than the sentinel’s symptoms; he hoped that Bilbo had sought out Óin. What if he was suffering alone? What if the pain was so bad he collapsed and hit his head? What if he was bleeding out somewhere in Erebor because Thorin wasn’t there with him??

Kíli entered the tent his uncle was sitting in, and Thorin’s head snapped up, high strung and ready to throw his bucket at whatever this new threat was. Kíli held up his hands and said “It’s just me! I wanted to see how you were doing. It should start tapering off soon.”

Thorin tried to regulate his breathing again while his heart raced. His nephew stayed by the door until it looked like the other sentinel was coming back to himself. As he came to sit next to his uncle, he took a peek in the bucket and grimaced.

“Pretty bad, eh?”

“How is this manageable, Kíli? How in Mahal’s name do you deal with this?”

Kíli shrugged. “We don’t really. In the roughly year and a half we’ve been bonded, only once have we been separated. You weren’t there; I think you were working in another town. I went on a hunting trip that got delayed by orcs. Our group was out almost a week, and about every 36 hours I became a useless burden for an hour while I threw up and lost my mind over Fíli. Fíli always came with me on hunting trips after that. I’m a better hunter with him anyway. Bondeds are intended to be there for each other, and those with true bonds are even more dependent. I suppose this is just Mahal’s way of ensuring we don’t ignore that.”

Thorin contemplated his words, and was grateful to have this moment of amity with his blood. Until…

“Uh, if you’re feeling better now, there’s actually another reason I came to find you as well. Thranduil is here with his army.”

“WHAT?”

Thorin stormed out to find Bard’s tent. He brushed past the guards who tried to block his entrance to find Bard standing with his brow furrowed and King Bastard sitting absurdly elegantly on a charred kitchen chair.

“Oh, so he has deemed to leave his tent. I thought you were supposed to be assisting the Men with recovery from the dragon you loosed on them,” drawled Thranduil.

“I’m a currently apart from my guide; I was having symptoms of separation,” he answered stiffly. “What are you doing here with an army in full battle dress? Have you come to march on Erebor?”

“Tsk tsk, I always forget about the complications that come with the more... unusual of your kind. Strange that you would put a guide dependent on you at risk of such complications as well…”

 _“Why are you here?”_ demanded Thorin.

“I saw the fires; I knew your folly,” answered Thranduil, shards of ice shot through his tone. “I came to aid Esgaroth.”

“So either it takes two days to mobilize your army that is half a day’s march away, or you brought your _battle ready army_ to assist in relief efforts after you already knew the dragon to be dead,” scathed Thorin.

“I didn’t know what form those relief efforts might take; your grandfather refused to part with a single coin. I was unconvinced that Dale would not need help receiving the payment they deserve from you. I haven’t seen any evidence of dwarven gold; King Bard, my army is ready as you need.”

Thorin saw red and began a truly unrepeatable tirade in Khuzdul when Bard interrupted.

“King Thorin and I have already negotiated reparations. There is a curse on the gold which accounts for the separation of King Thorin from his bonded and the delay of payment. It was unsafe for the sentinels and ungifted to remain near the treasure. I thank you for the offer of your army, it is much appreciated but unnecessary in that particular capacity.” Bard spoke calmly, obviously trying to create a barrier between the two kingdoms. He would need treaties and contracts with both of them; he couldn’t have the royals slitting each other’s throats in his tent.

“Cursed? Hm, what a useful excuse to avoid payment. I have certain knowledge of curses, perhaps I could lift it and speed payment…”

“You’re not coming within a mile of the Erebor treasury,” Thorin snarled. “If you want to be helpful, send out some of those long legged scuttlers you call runners to look for Gandalf the Grey. I won’t trust anyone else to lift the curse.”

Thranduil sneered, and Bard looked troubled, but conceded Thorin’s right to decide who should lift the curse. Runners were sent, and Thranduil returned to his army.

 

Instead of returning to his tent, Thorin went to the metalworkers tent where he’d spent the last two days. He had been helping melt and reform scrap into tools and stoves for heat. It was soothing work for the king, who had spent his wandering days doing work very similar to this. Something about filling all of his senses with the sound, smell and feel of the metal quieted his mind. After the infuriating meeting with the Elf King, he needed a reprieve.

The one he got turned out to be even better: just as he was putting on smithing gloves, a raven flew down and landed in front of him. It carried a small roll of paper in it’s beak. Thorin reached out to take it, and as soon as it’s mouth was free, the bird said “Thorin. Thorin.” The king smiled, and thought they might be able to rebuild the network of ravens after all. He unrolled the paper and saw his guide’s messy scrawl.

 

_Nori says our beloved jailers came for breakfast._

_Probably unannounced; how rude._

_Should I gather the barrels?_

_Love,_

_Bilbo_

 

Thorin smiled even wider, and looked around for something he could use to reply. “Wait here,” he commanded the raven, and grabbed a pen and a rather wrinkly scrap of paper.

 

_No barrels yet, although there’s a chance of regicide on the horizon._

_Some have been sent to look for the wizard._

_I hope for our reuniting soon, my love._

_Care for yourself as I would._

_Love,_

_Thorin_

He rolled it up, and before handing it to the bird carefully said “Bilbo. Bil-bo.”

“Bibo. Bilbo,” the raven repeated.

“My deepest thanks,” Thorin said as he held out his little scroll. He watched the big black bird pick it up and fly out of sight before going back to his gloves.

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

The guides inside Erebor had been spending their days assessing the what would need to be repaired in order to make the kingdom habitable again. It seemed as though the family dwellings were left mostly undamaged; Bilbo supposed Smaug had little use for the comforts of home.

Bilbo and Balin were just returning to the main hall after an expedition to the former Royal Chambers. Balin had innocently asked if Bilbo wanted to see what he had referred to as the “naughty corner”, where apparently Thorin had spent a not inconsiderable amount of time as a child.

His head had fully recuperated from that morning’s fit, and he was feeling fairly jolly after hearing the stories about his beloved as a stubborn, chubby toddler (apparently with a penchant for capturing small rodents and bringing them back to his room to keep as pets). He went up to the battlements to relieve Óin from watch, and had barely settled in when the raven he had sent earlier perched in front of him. Eagerly, Bilbo took the paper from it’s mouth and delighted as the raven said “Bilbo!”

“Yes, that’s me! Thank you,” and he opened the paper as the bird flew away.

He read Thorin’s note with relief that there didn’t seem to be an immediate crisis from the elf army, and also that people had been sent to look for Gandalf. He read and reread the note, noticing the sharp form of Thorin’s letters and enjoyably imagining exactly how Thorin would “care for him” if he were here, before chastising himself for acting like a lovesick tween. He was on guard; it wouldn’t do for someone to sneak in under his nose.

 

Thorin worked in the smithing tent all day until it became too late to continue. He nibbled on a bit of cram on his way back to Bard’s tent, too afraid of the inevitable return of the separation illness to eat anything more. He intended to speak with Bard about perhaps sending Kíli out hunting, where he would be more useful than he was now. He was currently set to the task of keeping the children out of trouble, and was mostly doing the opposite of that. Kíli had taken to teaching the children small pranks and the irritating kind of jokes that are so hilarious to the young. It was a wonderful way of distracting the little ones from the desperation of their circumstances, but Thorin thought their parents might appreciate someone else having a turn at daycare.

He waited at the tent entrance for admission, only to be told that King Bard was already holding an audience. As if to confirm his words, raised voices came from the tent. Bard’s head popped through and looked to a guard as his mouth rushed out “Find King Thorin immed-! Oh.” He opened the door more widely and said “Gandalf is here.”

Relief like a tidal wave crashed over Thorin. Gandalf was here; he would remove the curses and Thorin could go back to Bilbo. He could begin the business of repaying Dale and moving his people home. He stepped into the tent, too excited for the coming turn of events to even be bothered at Thranduil’s presence.

“These orcs have been bred for battle! I tell you, war is coming!”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, which immediately set Thorin to believing whatever it was Gandalf was saying.  
“Orcs? What has happened?”

“Thorin! Where is Bilbo?” The wizard seemed anxious, which caused a curl of ice in the sentinel’s stomach.

“There’s a curse on the treasure; guides were the only unaffected. We left them there to guard Erebor while the rest of us came here. Is he in danger?” Thorin was poised, ready to run the second Gandalf confirmed his fears.

“You are all in danger, that is what I am saying!”

Thorin listened intently as Gandalf explained that Azog had been intended to kill the company before they ever reached Erebor. Now that he had failed, the Necromancer whom Azog served was sending an army to gain the strategic advantage of the Lonely Mountain. The longer he talked, the higher Thorin felt his tension rise, until it was nearly impossible to stay where he was and not go to Bilbo.

“I sent for Dain by raven nearly three days ago; his army should be here in another two,” stated Thorin. “How much time do we have?”

Gandalf was agitatedly pacing around the tent; belatedly Thorin noticed that the wizard had several scrapes and bruises. Where had he been?

“Dol Guldur is not far from here- there is a chance that they will arrive before Dain.”

Thorin’s desperation reached it’s breaking point.   
“Gandalf, you must come immediately to remove the curses-”

“Orcs are imminent and your first worry is for your treasure; how very dwarven of you,” scathed Thranduil, eyes flashing with genuine anger.

Thorin looked Thranduil in the eye, and spoke very carefully and quietly.

“My first worry is for my bonded. My second worry is for my people, and my third worry is for yours and Bard’s. There are weapons and armor for dwarves, men and elves in that treasury, but it will do us no good to arm soldiers only for them to succumb to the base greed that the curse inspires. If you don’t care to avail your army of the extra weapons, so be it, but I daresay Bard’s people could use the weapons and I know mine certainly will. Gandalf, how soon can you be ready?”

The wizard simply looked relieved that something was being done to get ready for the coming danger. “I will need a change of horse if there’s one to be had; otherwise I’m ready to go immediately.”

Without another word the pair left to hie to the mountain.

 

 


	38. Chapter 38

Bilbo’s shift on watch lasted until the darkness of night had covered them, after which he ate some cram (the only thing left to be had, and which he would gladly never look on again given the choice) before curling up in his bedroll and trying not to miss his sentinel too badly.

After he fell asleep he had the strangest dream about introducing Lobelia to Thorin in Bag End, when suddenly all the pictures fell off the walls. In his dream he couldn’t pick up his parent’s portraits off the ground no matter how hard he tried. Voices started filtering through his dream, and when he couldn’t place them to Thorin or Lobelia, he started to wake up.

“- Guldur? You’re sure?” said Balin, the emotion in his voice crackling with worry.

“Yes.” That sounded like- but then that would mean-

“Gandalf? Thorin?” Bilbo’s voice was rough and his eyes still held the blur of sleep, but he felt a singular warmth crossing the floor towards him.

“Amrâlimê,” Thorin dropped to his knees, gathering his guide in his arms, and that sorely missed sense of rightness settled into them once more.

Bilbo clutched to Thorin, lost in the happiness of having his bonded back, until he realized the rest of the room was grey with grimness- much grimness. He pulled back slightly to look Thorin in the eyes questioningly.

Grimly, the king said “An army of orcs is coming. War will be on our doorstep in a matter of days.”

Bilbo’s heart seemed to seize. “Azog?” he whispered.

Thorin didn’t have to say yes; every color of his emotions confirmed it.

“Gandalf is here. He will remove any curses so that we can use the battle acrutements stored in the treasury.”

“Gandalf?” The hobbit finally looked away from his love to see the old wizard looking very worn indeed.

“Hello Bilbo,” greeted his old friend, somehow still managing a twinkle in his eye after the exhaustion he must have felt. “I see your solitary lifestyle has abandoned you for good. Not quite the outcome I intended, but a good one nonetheless. Will you take me to the treasury so I can evaluate whatever nonsense Smaug left behind?”

Bilbo nodded, but before getting up he pulled Thorin into a fervent kiss, for once not caring much about having an audience. The separation had been harder than he expected, and he wanted to be sure Thorin knew how much he was missed.

“Come along then,” he said as he hopped up, ears tinged red. “It’s this way.”

Before they made their way to the gold, Bilbo stopped by his hiding place to pick up the arkenstone. He held it out to Gandalf with distaste, knowing the effect it had tried to hold over his sentinel.

“ _I_ don’t want to touch it,” declared Gandalf. “Just hold it out for a moment,” and the wizard leaned in, looking closely before sniffing the stone. “Hm,” he said. “Bring it along, if you would Bilbo.”

A little vexed but more curious, the guide took the lead toward the treasure room again.

After they stepped through the door, Gandalf picked up a single gold coin and licked it.

“Oh- Yavanna’s sake! Magic though you may be, you’re still going to pick up some nasty disease if you keep that up!” declared Bilbo.

Gandalf chucked. “It’s all in the name of ensuring the safety of your beloved, my friend. Please, place the arkenstone with the rest of it, and then you may want to take a step back from the treasure.”

The wizard held his staff in one hand and extended another, murmuring complicated words. This continued for several minutes, Bilbo waiting anxiously. Gradually there was a cooling of the room, before a shudder seemed to ripple out from the center to the sides, and then right through the walls. Bilbo realized the repulsion he had felt was gone. He certainly still had no interest for what the room held, but he no longer felt compelled to get away.

The guide grinned up at the wizard, who truly looked exhausted now. Bilbo tsk tsked and said, “Off to bed with you now, come on.”

Gandalf managed a smile and said “Don’t forget the arkenstone; Thorin will be needing it eventually.”

Bilbo stooped down, pocketed the jewel, and led the way back out.

 

Thorin continued speaking to Balin and Dwalin about what was necessary for the protection of the mountain, but watched as his love guided Gandalf to a bedroll. Once the wizard was settled, the small hobbit drifted back towards Thorin while his mind was clearly occupied elsewhere. Once he was within arms reach, Thorin pulled him to his side, nodding with Dwalin’s assessment of the front gate.

A natural lull in the discussion occurred and Bilbo took advantage.

“The ones from Lake-town who won’t be fighting- where will they go?”

Thorin furrowed his brow and said “They’ll stay inside the most stable of the buildings in Dale, I suppose.”

“That’s still pretty open, Thorin. Orcs could get to the children quite easily.”

The sentinel could feel there was a suggestion behind this and waited for it to make an appearance.

“We could probably fit them in here.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up. “In Erebor?”

“Yes. I know it’s not a perfect plan; this place is hardly a paragon of safety with who knows what kind of structural integrity after the years Smaug spent here; but I’m sure the dwarven architecture has stood up better than the Men’s.” Bilbo smiled up winningly.

Thorin knew his pride was being played to; he didn’t care. He looked up at Balin and Dwalin. Balin was thoughtfully nodding while Dwalin frowned. “We just got it back.”

“Yes,” agreed Balin. “We just got our home back at the cost of theirs. I think it’s a good idea, Thorin.”

“I’ll send a raven to Bard with the offer. Thank you for the idea, âzyungel,” and he leaned down to kiss those beautiful curls before yawning.

Bilbo sighed. “Am I going to have to chase everyone to bed? You two,” to pointed accusingly at the sons of Fundin. “Go find your bonded and let mine have a rest. Better to make battle decisions after a bit of sleep,” he said as he shooed them away and scooted Thorin into Bilbo’s earlier vacated bedroll.

Bilbo lay down to curl into his lover, but was poked harshly by something in his pocket.

“Ouch! Oh, right.” He reached down and hesitantly pulled the arkenstone out, holding it between them. He looked up at Thorin warily, combing the fingers of his empathy through the nebula of their bond. He found nothing changed. Thorin was as he ever was: a noble, dependable, sappily romantic sentinel.

The king looked distrustfully and fearfully on the stone that had secured his right to rule.

“It is beautiful,” said Bilbo. “The most beautiful thing in Erebor. Aside from me, that is.”

Thorin looked up, startled into laughter by the unexpected comment. Bilbo gave him a crooked smile and tucked the arkenstone into his pack laying near by. Then they curled up together as if they had done it a thousand times instead of just twice, and fell asleep in each other’s comfort.

 

 


	39. Chapter 39

The morning found them both busy with preparations for the incoming invasion. Thorin was sending and receiving ravens a few times an hour, while Bilbo was helping clear things out and gather what they could for the families of Lake-town. Eventually, Bilbo found Thorin in the treasury, armor heaped at his feet while he looked at a very old map.

Bilbo reached out a soothing stroke through the bond as a greeting. He came up next to Thorin, nudging the breastplates and vambraces with his toes.

“Have you seen anything that might fit a hobbit yet?”

Thorin stilled. “We don’t need anything that might fit a hobbit,” he said slowly.

“While that could be a very flattering take on my fighting skills, somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant. If you will be needing armor then so will I.”

“You are not even slightly trained for battle,” the king nearly growled, turning to face his burglar. “You’ve had a single afternoon of sword lessons from Dwalin. You will remain inside Erebor with the families of Lake-town, in safety.”

Bilbo did his best not to be angry at the controlling tone Thorin had taken. He could feel the bone deep terror that it stemmed from, and any anger would simply reverberate into their bond and they would get nowhere. He tried to calm himself, but before he could speak, Thorin choked out,

“You cannot be like Frerin, Bilbo.”

The small guide immediately lost any anger left.

Gently, he touched Thorin’s cheek and said “I have listened, Thorin. Even if Dain’s army arrives in time, we will still need every soul available in order to defeat the orcs. And have you forgotten already that we have a true bond? We are bound together in life and death, love. Having me with you on the battlefield increases your likelihood of survival, which increases my likelihood of survival.”

Thorin wholeheartedly cursed his impatience for their bond. If they had waited...

“Also, we may argue and argue over this, but there’s no way you can reasonably ‘ban’ me from being part of the fight. Wouldn’t it be better to allow me time to prepare for battle?”

Thorin chewed on his lip. “You’ll stay by my side the entire time.”

“That’s the only place I want to be.”

“Mahal save us,” the king breathed as Bilbo stepped on top of a helmet to gain the height necessary for a kiss. “Do you still have your little letter opener?”

“My _sword_ is in the front hall, yes.”

“Please find Nori and spar with him; brush up on using your empathy skills and a weapon at the same time.” Thorin gripped onto his burglar for another moment before forcing himself to return to his task. “Will you also tell Balin to expect the first of the Men and Elves this evening?”

“Alright,” Bilbo nodded, his mind already far away, considering what skills he should focus on. “I love you, you know.”

“Aye, I know.”

 

Overnight and through the next day preparations continued. Men helped bring out the armor and suitable weaponry where it could be more easily be sorted through for a good fit. Children ran about in the areas to which they were contained, yelling and staring in awe at the great pillars. Thranduil, Bard, Thorin and their chief strategists spoke about placement and movement of forces. Thranduil and Thorin managed to avoid outright threats to each other in light of the coming battle. Thranduil may have even been paying Thorin a compliment when he said, “Your grandfather would have been horrified at the way you’re handing out dwarven made armor,” but who could really tell with elves.

Around noon, Dain’s army arrived earlier than expected. Bilbo thought he could feel the mountain itself sigh with relief. Thorin rode out to meet him so there wouldn’t be confusion about why an elf army was parked on their front door.

Bilbo heard Dain II Ironfoot before he saw him.

“Bonded to a halfling? Takin’ the advice o’ wizards?? _Allied with elves???_ Who the hell are ye and where did ye stash my cousin?”

Finally getting through the crowd, Bilbo looked up and cleared his throat. “Hobbit, not halfling.”

Dain looked down, surprised, and then back up at Thorin.

“This him then? This is the one yer bound to for this life and the one after?” He blatantly appraised the guide. “He looks a snag too cute for a battlefield, cousin.”

Bilbo straightened at the indignity of such a remark and shot back “Are you the one who refused to help his kin without the proof of a rock?”

Dain had the decency to look a little ashamed and answered “I don’ exist in a vacuum, little one. The other lords have a say in where we spen’ the lives of our soldiers.”

Bilbo huffed, and said “Well, if any of them need to see it now, I’ll gladly show it to them, very closely and forcefully.”

“Oh,” Dain stroked his beard thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ye always did like ‘em cute, didn’t ye cousin? Maybe ye haven’t been replaced after all.”

Thorin, choosing to ignore this last comment, said “Bilbo, this is my cousin, Lord Dain of the Iron Hills. Dain, this is my true guide, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

“At yer service,” said Dain. “A true match, eh? Maybe that’s a good omen for the line o’ Durin. Now,” he clapped his hands. “Where are these orcs yer promisin’ me we’d get to kill?”

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

The necessary discussions had taken place. Dwarves, elves and men alike were armed and armored. There had even been suitable protection found for Bilbo, in the form of a mithril shirt of chains. In a brief moment of quiet, Thorin took a moment to rest his forehead against his guide’s. Their bond was filled with a fierce love and ultimate faith in one another. They straightened to looked at each other, and yells from the runners reached them.

 

“They’re here!”

 

The orcs arrived. The battle began.

It was a fierce and bloody affair, one side thinking they had the advantage before losing footing and having the tide turn to the other. It was all confusion and pain and Bilbo could not numb any of it, because in the end he made very little use of his sword.

Bilbo was not the same guide who had left the shire; he was bolder, more open, and exponentially more powerful. Just how powerful, he didn’t realize until a goblin got too close and he reached out his hand to push the face away.

 _No, I can’t,_ he had thought. _If I die Thorin dies, I can’t._ His gifts seemed to shriek and the fear Bilbo was experiencing multiplied and blew back into the goblin like a shrapnel bomb. The goblin seized and then dropped, his heart having stopped. The guide was stunned. A bit hysterically, he realized he had finally learned to use his “outside voice.”

After that the strategy became Thorin attacking from the front while Bilbo slipped around behind to kill. The worked synchronously, each aware of the other’s exact position through the cloud of their bond. Every one of Thorin’s senses became a lethal weapon; the bodies piled around them. Bilbo was just beginning to think they might beat back the blackness, when he recognized a column of rage pouring up the battlefield.

Azog. He knocked aside enemies and goblins alike with his mace, determinedly stalking the bonded pair. As he drew near, there were no words, no taunts. Death stood in the air balanced on a point, waiting for the winds of chance to tip her one way or another.

Thorin attacked first, lunging with his sword. They fought for quick minutes, moving too fast for Bilbo to see clearly. As he became distracted, orcs attacked, leaving him to defend himself with his sword while trying to drop as many of them as he could with his deadly touch. His attention thus claimed, he felt it through the bond before he saw anything.

A blast of distress blew through him from his other half. Viciously, he stabbed one of his opponents and grabbed the neck of another, killing them both before turning around to see his sentinel on his back in front of Azog once again, this time his side covered in blood.

In a breath, Bilbo made his decision. He slipped on the ring, cutting them both off from each other.

Thorin gasped, the loss of his guide more staggering than the wound through his side. _Bilbo has seen me lose ground,_ he thought. Bilbo must have put on the ring. His guide was seeking out safety. They hadn’t been bound for long; perhaps he could survive the severing of the bond through death-

Suddenly Bilbo’s presence flooded through him again, and he saw his tiny guide standing behind Azog, clutching the Orc’s bare calf. The defiler didn’t drop dead, as the others had done, but he froze, seemingly paralyzed.

Thorin rolled, snatched his sword, and thrust it up into Azog’s chest. The villain shuddered and collapsed as Thorin removed the sword. Bilbo maintained a hold on the leg until he felt life leave. A great shadow passed over them, and feeling lightheaded from the loss of blood, Thorin wondered if the darkness was Azog’s soul finally passing into the underworld.

He snapped back to the moment when unbelievable pain crushed through his side again. He looked over to see Bilbo putting pressure on his wound.

“The eagles came. The orcs are running. Stay awake, Thorin, we’ll get you to a healer soon.”

“You disappeared. I thought you were running to safety.”

“What safety would be had in letting you die? Foolish dwarf,” Bilbo said distractedly. Thorin was losing a lot of blood; this couldn’t continue. He needed treatment. Why hadn’t he listened more closely to Óin? He openly broadcasted his panic, hoping anyone would come help carry his sentinel.

“My brilliant hobbit,” Thorin coughed, and then faded into unconsciousness. A screech came from above them, and Bilbo saw an eagle. He made himself move back to watch as the eagle did what he could not, and carried him to someone else who could also do what Bilbo could not, and save his sentinel.

 

Days later, a hobbit sat blankly at the side of a dwarf. One small hand clutched around a braid while another small hand caressed the callouses on the dwarf’s thumb. His face was blank because he was locked inside his own bond cloud, stroking the space of his unconscious sentinel.

Ever so slowly, Bilbo felt movement return to Thorin’s places inside the bond. Floating lights appeared, turning from pale blue to a light gold. The lights shuffled from side to side before beginning to swirl around gently. Bilbo came back into himself and looked at Thorin’s face. Blue eyes stared back at him.

The guide tried to speak, but his throat croaked from disuse. He cleared it and tried again.

“My last words to you would have been ‘foolish dwarf.’”

Thorin, surprised for a moment, would have laughed if he hadn’t recently had a gaping hole in his side.

“Luckily they weren’t. And now you have a lifetime to think of better last words than those.”

Bilbo sniffed, pointlessly trying to hide the overwhelming emotion that Thorin could feel clearly through the bond.

“Unless you die doing something foolish; then they are the perfect last words.”

At that, Thorin really did chuckle, something he only regretted a little bit.

 

 


	41. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after. With porn.

He opened the round green door and stepped back into a museum of his old life. Everything was dusted and clean; Hamfast had done a perfect job of keeping the place up for nearly two years.  

A bump came from behind him, and as he stumbled forward he heard “What are ye standin’ in the doorway fer?”

“I was having a moment. I haven’t been here in two years, you know. And the last time I _was_ here, thirteen unruly dwarves had taken over my home.”

“We were invited!”

“Yes, but not by me.”

A smack sounded as Thorin batted the back of Dwalin’s head and Dwalin burst out “ _This_ is why I’m _bald,_ yeh know!!”

“Let my guide reminisce over the first meeting of his beloved sentinel.”

“Oh Mahal, let me out of here. I’m gonna go see to the ponies and make Nori put back whatever he’s already stolen from the neighbors.”

Dwalin stomped out and Thorin huffed with a smile while he stepped around his betrothed to make for the kitchen.

“Do you suppose there’s anything edible left? I’m starving.”

“That depends on what you consider ‘edible’. I’ve seen you dwarves eat things I wouldn’t use to compost my garden,” called Bilbo over his shoulder as he went down the hall opposite the kitchen. Through the cloud that followed him he could practically see the eyeroll from Thorin, four rooms away.

Smirking, he opened a specific door and stepped inside. His patchwork robe lay folded on the bed (he must have forgotten to put it away before they left) and the sun was warming half the room.

Suddenly strong arms wrapped around him from behind and a long nose found it’s way into the crook of his neck.

“You looked criminally captivating in that robe during the breakfast before we left,” purred Thorin.

“The breakfast before we left?” asked Bilbo skeptically. “You mean the breakfast after night we met, where the first thing you said was that I looked like a grocer?”

“... Did I not say ‘a very handsome grocer’? I’m sure I must have.”

Bilbo snorted and turned around in his sentinel’s arms.

“You wouldn’t be angling for a delay in packing, would you my king?”

“Never. But then, I’m not the one who insisted we had to come back here to get his mother’s glory box if we were to be 'properly’ married.”

“As if that even matters to dwarves; it’s just a formality to the kingdom. Our bond is all they need to call me ‘Guide Consort’ and deem my presence necessary at every single elf negotiation. Honestly, Thorin, why the traders guild can’t-” he was cut off with a heated kiss.

“We’re away, we’re alone, and we’re in your bedroom,” panted Thorin once they surfaced for air. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”

“I suppose not,” grinned Bilbo before taking Thorin’s hand and leading him to the bed.

It was a much smaller bed than the one they had in Erebor, but also much better than bedrolls and lumpy mattresses found in inns. The hobbit pushed his dwarf back onto it and Thorin allowed the direction. Bilbo immediately climbed on top of Thorin, straddling him and leaning down for another kiss.

A familiar heat spread through the nebula of their bond, no less exciting for being known. Bilbo sat back up and Thorin’s hands reached around to cup his guide’s arse and squeeze, pulling him down to grind onto his growing erection. Bilbo hummed delightedly and quietly purred “You know what I’m looking forward to most? Not having to ride a pony for a while. My arse could use the rest… but I suppose I have one more good ride in me.”

Thorin couldn’t help it: he started to laugh. “That was terrible, my love.”

“Oh, turning down propositions from your bondmate now, are you?”

“I never said I was turning it down,” Thorin corrected, and held tight to his hobbit’s waist before flipping them over on the small bed. “Did you keep slick before our journey, ghivashel?” he asked against his lover’s skin as he lay kisses around a pointed ear.

“Oh, now who’s being ridiculous,” Bilbo said, but the effect was ruined by how breathless the words were. “Top drawer of the nightstand, little glazed jar.”

Thorin reached over, picking up the jar and placing it on the bed next to them. When he looked back at Bilbo, he frowned.

“This is too much clothing, far too much,” he declared.

Bilbo smirked. “Sometimes you like it when I keep my clothing on.”

Thorin went a bit pink and said “Yes, but those are different bed games. The one I want to play _now_ involves your skin…” he sucked an earlobe into his mouth and grazed his teeth over it  “...and my skin…” a big, calloused hand ran under the hobbit’s shirt and slid up his side “...and as much touching between the two as possible.”

Bilbo moaned as a thumb flicked over his nipple, and thought he could get on board with that plan. He lifted his arms up and his sentinel removed his shirt and coat in one go. Before they were even all the way off, he started shimmying out of his trousers and smallclothes. Thorin stood up off the bed to disrobe, and Bilbo took his own cock in hand, teasing himself while watching more of his beloved appear from underneath the traveling clothes. When Thorin got an eyeful of what his guide was doing, he groaned and jumped back on the bed to cover his bonded.

Thorin’s hand took over for Bilbo’s and he slowly stroked up and down, pausing to squeeze the head as he knew his burglar liked. His whiskery face rubbed across the soft hobbit belly that he loved, sensitizing the skin before bestowing sucking kisses over it. His other hand sought out the little jar, missing repeatedly before Bilbo picked it up and shoved it toward him. “Please,” he gasped.

Eager to obey, Thorin opened the jar one handedly to scoop some of the salve onto his fingers, which then unerringly found the hobbit’s hole. Gently massaging around the entrance, he slipped one finger in and felt the shudder of pleasure from his guide. Hearing unsatisfied desires through the bond, he quickly worked in a second. Two of his fingers slowly moved in and out, his thumb massaging the rim. He began scissoring the fingers to ease the passage, and as they reached far enough, he crooked his fingers up and caressed either side of the spot that gave them so much pleasure.

The feather touch was all Bilbo got before the fingers moved away again. His need drove higher, and he couldn’t keep his hips still. Driving up into Thorin’s fist or down onto his fingers, it didn’t matter; he just needed more. “Another, another,” he panted.

“Patience, amrâlimê. There is nowhere to be but here, in this bed together,” he nuzzled down into the coarse curls gathered between his guide’s legs and licked at the cock standing proudly from them. Thorin moved his fingers a little faster before removing them entirely to add more slick from the jar.

Three fingers were reintroduced to the welcoming home of Bilbo’s body, and Bilbo finally felt the kind of stretch that he wanted. A wonderful type of tension released as the slight burn melted into pure pleasure, and Bilbo said “I need- Thorin, I need-”

“I know ghivashel, I know.”

The sentinel watched as he slowly removed his fingers, making sure that Bilbo knew everything he felt at the sight. One last fingertip slipped over the lip, and he coated his erection in salve before saying “I believe you made mentions of going for a ride?”

“Shire’s hills, yes.”

Bilbo scrambled up, pushing at Thorin to lay down where he had been. As soon as his sentinel was mostly horizontal, Bilbo climbed on top of him and sank down to the hilt.

Starbursts filled their bond from both sides, both of them holding still for a moment to soak in the other’s enjoyment mixing with their own. Eventually though, stillness was more than could be asked of any hobbit, much less one with a fantastically handsome bondmate beneath him.

He started with small, slow rocking motions, feeling the depth of his love’s cock inside him. Shifting just so until that thick cock was touching exactly where he wanted it to. Then he raised himself and slowly slid back down, feeling the hot slide against sensitive skin, so delicious that he let out a shaky moan. He did it again, a little faster, and again and again, until he had worked up a rhythm that left them both panting.

Thorin’s hands found Bilbo’s hips and gripped tightly, trying to find anchor in the sea of pleasure.

“Bilbo, melekûnûh-” he cried, voice ragged.

He planted his feet on the bed and drove up into the slippery heat of his burglar’s body, drilling over and over again as Bilbo slammed down. The guide’s hand was working on his length furiously and his eyes were closed, lost to the sensation of thick pressure inside him.

Thorin could feel Bilbo’s climax speeding closer and closer. He used his grip on his guide’s hips to thrust deeper, finding that sensitive spot and pressing against it for a moment before quickly sliding back and shoving him full again.

Orgasm tore through Bilbo, fluid shooting over his fist to land on his stomach. There was a delayed moment- and then the bliss pouring into the bond pushed Thorin over the edge.

One orgasm fed the other, rolling through their bodies and washing them into their own sphere of pleasure.

Gradually, they swayed back down to the present, Bilbo collapsed on top of Thorin, sweat and semen clinging to their bodies. The sentinel had slipped out of his guide and there was a mess to clean up, but neither could be bothered yet.

Trying to stifle a yawn face down in Thorin’s chest, Bilbo said “We should start packing. If we finish before the week is out, then there’s a chance we’ll be back in time for Fíli’s birthday.”

“Fíli’s birthday will still be there next year; let’s have a nap instead.”

Bilbo laughed and turned his face to the side to say “You see, this is why I’m their favorite uncle.”

“No, you’re their favorite uncle because of those tarts you make. It’s why you’re my favorite too.”

“Oh, is that all it takes? And to think I adventured all the way to Erebor, killing giant spiders and facing dragons in the name of getting you to love me.”

“Truly a waste of your time. If you had just made some of those blackberry tarts for that dinner, I would have bonded you right then and there.”

“Ah, well, live and learn.” He put both palms to Thorin’s chest and pushed up. “Come on, betrothed. We have a home to pack up and a home to get back to. And maybe, if we’re lucky, we can skip the deadly adventures this time and just keep each other.”

 

 


End file.
